Hangs On a Spool of Thread
by Purfessorkitty
Summary: Russia. The country that everyone despises. He can't figure out why everyone hates him. What did he ever do? He just wanted a friend. He'd kill for one. Rated T for violence (a little of a lot of violence near the last chapters), mild swearing. This is not a happy story. If you're going to complain about "IT'S SCARY! ):o" Don't read it, obviously. It's supposed to be scary and sad.
1. Chapter 1: A Beginning to an End

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

* * *

_"Tick, tock, tick, tock," _

The clock on the wall marched endlessly forward, signalling that time would never end.

They all just didn't care.

He was one of the strongest nations. He tried his best to make everyone happy. But it never worked.

He was still hated, feared, ignored.

No one cared for such a disgrace.

He coughed softly, pulling his scarf over his nose.

It was just a cold. The winter seemed to affect him. He hated the cold, and the winter. No matter how much he prayed, wished, asked, the freezing temperatures would never seem to leave.

Stuck in such a cold place. Like hanging on a spool of thread.

His illness wasn't anything serious. Probably only the flu. There was just a small influenza outbreak, but it's fine. It's not like it's serious or terminal or anything.

He coughed once more. His throat felt like it was burning. Every one of his muscles ached. He should just go out into the cold snow and freeze himself to death. Besides, he was already weak from a sickness.

He sat up slowly, trying not to give himself a migraine doing so.

If they hated him. He'd do them all a favor.

He'd die in a way they all wished him to. Freeze in the harsh weather. Stay out there until his skin turns a bright white, and chips off like paint on a porcelain vase.

He stood on his shaky legs, nearly falling a few times. His breaths were short and feeble, as if he'd just finished running about five miles.

A sharp pain in his head made him tense up. He let out a small, quiet whimper, falling back to the bed and gripping the side of his head with his pale hand.

It felt like he was being choked to his death. Like a piece of small thread was wrapped around his neck so tightly. It was so small and wiry, yet it couldn't break. It felt as if it were slicing through his boned neck like it were barbed wire.

He was a lot more thinner than he was before. Before, he was strong. Almost stronger than Germany, even.

But now, he was even more feeble and smaller than little Italy.

He'd just make the suffering come to an end. No one would care. One nation would disappear, and they wouldn't even notice.

He finally stood up, walking out of the room on wobbling legs.

He hadn't taken his coat or boots off from the day prior. He opened the back door to his large, empty mansion. He was all alone there, in that horrible place. It was so quiet and empty, you could hear a pin drop from the basement.

Just as always, he was met with a blistering wind, snowflakes blowing in swift, crazed motions.

He even shielded himself, wincing as the cold nipped at his already pale skin.

After staying in the doorway for a few moments, he shut the door behind him, walking out through the knee-high snow.

He took cautious, trudging steps until his knees gave out from underneath him.

The cold snow burned him, almost as hot as fire. He deserved this. Even if he'd die, his country would fall. He didn't mind.

He sat there as the snow clustered around him, already beginning to bury him with the snow. Snowflakes rested on his eyelashes, making his face have small, white specks. It gave him the illusion of shimmering slightly. The sun was gone, hidden in the gray clouds.

He was just a walking nightmare, wrapped in an ivory colored scarf.

That's all they knew him for. A nightmare. A true nightmare.

He coughed even more, not bothering to cover his mouth. This cough was more stronger and harder than the rest. It shook his whole body, making him sound like his throat was being torn to shreds. He couldn't stop. The coughs only got more harder and harder.

Once he stopped for a few moments, his throat felt like it was being tickled by a feather. But then it returned, and made it feel as if he were being stabbed in his throat by a thousand needles.

Wasps. It were as if wasps were roaming around inside of him, trying to make their way out of his mouth. Crawling around in his throat, stinging him. He hadn't realized that he was bent down towards the snow, panting. His arms were held in the snow to hold himself up. They burned with the cold. He felt awful.

He coughed even more, trembling with every one. He noticed that some of the snow beneath him was stained a bright red. It was only a small morsel. It couldn't be too serious. No, not serious at all.

More hacking and coughing came to his throat, staining the snow an even more darker red.

It looked so pretty. The only sight of color in this melancholic, colorless world.

The cold soon was lifted. It was replaced with fire. He was burning. Burning in Hell. He couldn't move anymore. His body was completely numb.

_"До свидания," _He choked out, through tears he never realized he had.

Then everything faded away. The cold was gone. The fire. Everything. It all faded to black. Only except he still had one working sense.

_"Russland!?" _A man's deep, booming voice shouted.

* * *

**A/N: Tula Pilatu Kah Luttata~ That song Pumpkin March by Oliver is beautiful. ;w;**

**Chapter two soon. **


	2. Chapter 2: Someone Who Cares?

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: After reading the Holocaust based book, "Torn Thread", I noticed how the author, Anne Isaacs, italicizes the foreign German and Czech words. So, I decided that from now own I'll italicize the foreign words. You are a genius, Anne Isaacs!**

**I decided to give this story a rather cruel turn in the end from listening to the songs, "Leave it to Yotsuya-San" and "Psycho", by Hatsune Miku. Those songs are rather darkly inspiring. =w= Oh jeez, I gave away the ending, didn't I? No, not really. ^u^"**

* * *

It had felt that it were a ceaseless stillness.

Nothing moved.

Nothing was to be seen.

Nothing was to be heard.

Nothing was to be felt.

Nothing to even be smelt.

Darkness. Pure darkness.

This was death, feeling as though you're floating on air.

He didn't like it. Though, it was better than being surrounded by people that hated your guts.

What was that voice he'd heard before everything faded away?

That faint, echo in his mind that called to him his name.

Who was that?

What was that?

Why was that voice there?

Why was it familiar?

Nothing made sense.

Even though his sixth sense was barely even reachable either, it was but a nonsense.

Everything was just a senseless nonsense.

Senseless nonsense.

Everything eventually stopped. He stopped thinking. His minds escaped.

He died.

...

Violet eyed opened slowly.

What happened? Why was he alive? Awake? In his house? He was on the sofa in the living room. A blanket was over his pale body. His coat and boots had been taken off. They were replaced by a t-shirt and shorts.

He felt so hot, he was burning from the sensation of first being in the ice cold snow, then brought into a warm house.

Who put him here? Who was here with him?

Was God just giving him hallucinations to make him suffer? Was he really dead?

Something warm was on his forehead. Touching it with his hot hand, he realized it was a warm cloth.

He heard loud footsteps thump through the house. The steps were so heavy, that the room shook with their presence.

"_Gott sei Dank, _you're alive! Russia, I thought you died out there."

It was Germany. When did he ever get here? _Why _was he here?

He thought that maybe the German would say something rude, and he decided to try and kill the Russian himself. Like; _"You were trying to kill yourself? How pathetic! You'd just wimp out. There's only one way to get you to stop wasting our oxygen. Suicide isn't the fate you should face. It has to be more severe." _

Instead, he said something he'd never thought he'd ever hear.

"You shouldn't try to kill yourself, Russia. What were you thinking? You don't deserve to die."

The German looked away, murmuring something Russia couldn't hear, "...yet."

Russia faked a smile, and began to speak, but he was silenced by a fit of coughing.

He felt Germany sit beside him and pat his back to help him get the coughs out.

"Jeez, you're as sick as Italy when he eats England's cooking."

Did... did Germany just make a joke? In front of _him? _

He looked up uncertainly by the German's simile. Why was he being so nice? So happy? What was wrong with _him?! _

He eyed the German. Was he smiling? No, he held a stern expression. He looked so annoyed.

"Do you have the flu?" He asked.

Russia nodded.

Germany's eyes wandered from his violet ones, looking down at his frail body. "What happened to you?"

Russia looked down. What _did _happen to him? He barely even had a stomach anymore. "You need to eat something. You're too slim."

_"Нет," _Russia declined, grabbing the sleeve of Germany's jacket to keep him from getting up.

"I'm not hungry. It is alright." He smiled shyly.

Germany eyed him, bewildered. "You _need _to eat, Russia. You look like a skeleton for God's sake."

"But I don't-"

It was too late. The German had already left the room and went to the kitchen. Should he eat? He didn't need to. He was fine. Perfectly fine.

His stomach interrupted his thoughts, lurching in disagreement. It hurt so much. He wrapped his arms around his aching stomach.

It were as if pins and needles were wrapped around him, stabbing into his flesh. It felt terrible!

After a few moments, Germany stepped back into the room.

"What's wrong? Why are holding yourself like that?"

"My stomach hurts. But, it's fine. It usually does this."

Germany only rolled his eyes. "It hurts because you don't eat a thing. I highly doubt that you'll be able to digest anything anymore."

Germany searched his pockets for something to give him.

"Here," He extended his arm to the Russian, holding something in his hand.

Russia looked at what was in his hand. It was a small piece of candy.

"At least you can have this while I'm making more food."

Russia shone him another smile. "Thank you."

Germany nodded, walking away.

Russia looked down at the candy. It was a wrapped piece of chocolate. He'd never been a fan of chocolate.

He unwrapped the blue wrapping around it, eyeing it.

Hesitating slightly, he put the morsel into his mouth. He couldn't taste it, due to his sinuses.

He sat in silence. The only thing in the living room was a sofa, and a small coffee table.

He wanted Germany to come back in the room. He wanted to talk to him.

He wanted a _friend. _

_Friend. _That word seemed to carry a thousand meanings.

He pulled the soft blanket to his chin. It felt so fluffy and cool to his smooth, hot skin.

He smiled, nuzzling the fuzz of it with his nose.

"K-ka-chew!" He sneezed, making his body jump.

He heard the sound of something drop and splatter in the kitchen.

_"ScheiBe!" _Germany cursed.

After a few moments, Germany came into the room, holding a bowl. He looked irritated

"When you sneezed, you scared the shit out of me. So I dropped everything on the floor. I had to get another bowl." He explained.

Russia smiled apologetically.

"Here you go." He handed Russia the glass bowl.

It was a bowl of soup. It was warm. The heat felt nice against Russia's hands.

"Th-thank you." The Russian smiled at him.

Germany nodded, walking over and sitting beside him.

Russia took the silver spoon, taking some of the soup with it and putting the watery substance in his mouth. Even though he couldn't taste it, whether it had any flavor at all, it felt tangy against his tongue. He smiled, eating more of it.

"Why were you out there anyway?" Germany asked him suspiciously.

Russia ceased eating, looking over at him. He placed the bowl and spoon down into his lap.

"I was going to die." He explained with no reluctance or hesitation. He only smiled.

"On purpose?" Germany seemed to be taken aback. Russia wouldn't just kill himself. Would he?

He nodded. "No one cares for me. They all despise me. Even you. What point is there to live if no one cares if I even exist?"

Germany stared, awestruck.

"I don't despise you. We just never talk to each other." He replied.

"All the other nations are just assholes. Don't be upset about what they say to you. You're my friend, that's all that matters."

_Friends. _They were _friends. _

Russia nodded, smiling.

"Why were you here in Russia anyway?"

Germany looked away, avoiding the other's gaze. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Just to talk. About whatever."

Germany wanted to talk to him. Not about any alliance, or meeting, but just to talk. Was he just trying to trick him?

Russia coughed again, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Eat the soup. It'll make your throat feel better."

Russia obliged, eating the soup more quickly than he'd intended.

"You're a lot less stronger than you used to be." Germany inquired.

"You look more weaker than China and Italy combined."

Russia nodded. Why was Germany so concerned about his body size?

He looked at him. Germany looked incredibly strong and buff compared to him now. Was he just trying to make him feel like he was so weak, and that he could be able to take advantage of him?

"I need to take a bath," Russia thought aloud, placing his bowl on the end table to the side of the sofa and getting up.

"Ah, wait," Germany grasped his arm softly.

Russia stopped, looking towards him.

A tint of pink crossed Germany's cheeks. "I... already bathed you..."

Russia raised an eyebrow.

"You were asleep,"

"Oh," Russia smiled, leaning back into the cushions of the couch. It was a little odd to know that Germany had bathed him while he was sleeping. Who knows what the German did to him while he was unconscious?

"Keep eating your soup." Germany ordered, eyeing him.

Russia looked over to him before picking up the bowl and continuing to eat the substance.

The room fell completely silent, aside from the sound of the metal spoon clinking against the glass bowl.

No one talked. No one moved.

Russia placed the empty bowl onto the side table, the noise making a loud clink and breaking the still silence.

"I always thought you were happy." Germany stated bluntly, looking away from the Russian's gaze.

Russia trained his violet eyes on him. "Hm?"

Germany didn't look over at him. He only stared at the fireplace next to the doorway.

"Everyday during the meetings, you'd come in the room with a smile. You'd be so happy. Everything you said was said with a smile, even something dark and creepy." He rubbed his nose, finishing his sentence.

Russia smiled, though he couldn't see it. "But I am happy."

"No you're not. You told me you were trying to kill yourself. That's not happiness."

Russia turned away. "Ah, I was just-"

"Just what?" Germany interrupted, turning his head in the slightest to see the violet eyed nation in the corner of his eye.

"..."

He coughed once again, making his body jump with every hack.

He felt Germany's warm hand rest on his forehead.

"You're so cold." He noted.

"But, I feel so hot." Russia laughed, looking over at him wearily.

"You're nowhere near hot. You're not burning up at all. You're as cold as ice."

He pulled the edge of the fuzzed blanket up to Russia's chin, wrapping it around his thin form.

Russia only squirmed slightly, making the blanket fall from his chest. He wasn't cold. He was so hot. He could barely breathe.

Germany sighed, pulling the blanket back up.

Russia glared back at him, the both of them locking death stares.

"Don't make me wrap you in this like a cocoon, _Russland." _Germany stated.

Russia giggled, leaning back and obeying Germany's persuasion.

"So, what made you want to talk to me?" Russia asked him, swinging his legs back and forth.

Germany hesitated for a moment. "I haven't seen you in forever. I never knew you'd turn out to be like this."

Russia was only half paying attention. He yawned quietly, not trying to attract Germany's attention.

He could barely keep his eyes opened. His bangs fell over his eyes, but he didn't bother to push them away. His hair felt so much longer.

He looked over to Germany. Speaking of hair, the German kept trying to push his hair back into place. Every time the blond strands fell over his eyes, he growled and pushed them back into place.

His bangs completely covered his eyes when they fell. He looked kind of scary that way. Eventually, he sighed in defeat, letting his long yellow bangs fall over his bright azure eyes.

Russia laughed. "You look like one of those American teenagers." He stated.

Germany looked over at him, raising an eyebrow, which Russia couldn't see at all due to his hair.

"Can you see like that?" He asked, poking the German's nose to see if he's react.

"_Ja, _I can. Don't poke me."

"Ah! You have no eyes!" Russia exclaimed, faking the impression of fear.

"AH! A spooky scary skeleton!" Germany returned, only with less enthusiasm and more irritation.

Russia giggled. He swiped away the German's bangs, the two of them locking eyes.

They both seemed to freeze. Russia never realized how vibrant and full of color Germany's eyes were. He smiled, admiring his gaze like a painting in an art museum.

Germany, however, saw a different image in Russia. The Russian looked so weak and feeble. His eyes were barely even filled with color. He could see veins and shades of dull gray forming in his usual gleaming magenta-ish violet eyes. He felt so bad for the poor Russian.

But... why?

"Germany?" Russia asked him, tilting his head slightly at an angle.

"Why do you look so scared?" He asked, staring hard into the German's wide, disbelieving eyes.

_Why do you look so scared? _The words seemed to echo.

He wasn't scared! Was he?

He was never scared of anything. Now, he was just scared of the Russian's features?

The only healthy thing on the Russian was his chubby, childlike face, though he was as pale as a ghost.

Germany changed his features, pushing his hair back. "I'm not scared, I'm just surprised."

"About what?"

"You."

_"Me? _Why? I'm fine!"

Germany eyed him. He definitely _wasn't _fine.

"Just lay down," Germany said, softly pushing him down.

"You clearly aren't fine. You need to go to a doctor, Russia."

"But I don't-"

_"Nein. _Don't interrupt me. You _are _going to the hospital. We'll go tomorrow."

"Why?"

...

Why did he have to ask that?

_Why? _As in, 'Why do I have to live?'.

"Because, you're not healthy." He said instead.

Russia was about to argue, but he stopped. He leaned back in defeat, pulling up the blanket so Germany wouldn't fight with him to pull it on himself.

As he laid there, he felt his eyes close. He felt so tired.

Eventually, his eyes closed completely, and his breathing deepened.

Germany had no idea what to do. The house was so silent and empty. Every movement in every room could be heard from miles away.

He looked over at Russia. He slept so peacefully, like a baby.

He realized that he was shivering. The blanket wasn't keeping him warm. Even though he said that he wasn't cold, his body disagreed with him and trembled in the chilly air. He let out small, discomforted moans, fumbling around,trying to get comfortable or trying to escape the cold.

He ended up falling against Germany's shoulder, still writhing around. He felt so cold, that Germany flinched and let out a surprised gasp when he felt the Russian touch him.

He was colder than ice.

Germany pulled the blanket up, until it was just above his chin. He tucked him in, but that wouldn't work either.

Why was he so cold?

He noticed that Russia was staying awfully close to him. It was because of his body heat, he realized.

He hesitantly, also reluctantly, wrapped his arms to pull the Russian close. He sighed, looking away if the Russian were to wake up and see him.

But he didn't wake up. He smiled, leaning into the German's burly chest.

Germany noticed the uncomfortable position that Russia was in. He was already sick, he probably didn't want to wake up with a sharp pain in his back.

Letting out another infuriated sigh, Germany leaned back onto the arm of the couch, letting Russia rest his full weight against his chest.

Poor Russia. Everyone was afraid of him. He's been through so many wars and fights. No wonder he would try to kill himself.

He felt the Russian's cold hands wrap around his back, snuggling closer. Russia's face by now, was nearly buried entirely into his chest

Germany felt really uncomfortable and uneasy.

Yet, before he knew it, sleep had mulled his mind away, and the last thing he'd seen was the ceiling before it faded softly to black.

* * *

**A/N: Aww yee. **

**I know, this chapter was stupid. And long. And stupid. **

**Chapter three soon. **


	3. Chapter 3: Red Scarf?

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: Today's National Pi month. **

**Get it? 3/14? ****π? That probably won't even come up as a pi symbol. **  


**That is all.**

* * *

The first thing Russia had heard when he'd woken was cursing.

He looked over, seeing Germany standing by the front door. He was trying to push it open.

"Dammit! Are you kidding me?" He shouted to no one in particular.

He realized why he was having such a difficult time getting it opened. Snow had built up by the front door, along with ice which barricaded and froze it shut.

Irritated, the German kicked the door, trying to break it down.

"Who the hell has a door that opens towards the outside?" He mumbled aloud, thinking that Russia was still asleep.

Russia sat up, watching him. The door didn't honestly open from the outside, it opened towards the inside, too. It was just frozen.

A piece of jagged snow and ice fell onto the floor from a slight crack in the door.

Finally figuring out that the door can be pulled back, Germany gripped the doorknob and pulled at it with all his strength.

He only accomplished for it to swing back and slam against the wall, creating a deafeningly loud crack. Cold air filled the room, making even more colder than it already had been. Large and small pieces of ice poured in from the opening, making Germany groan in agony.

He knelt down, beginning to pick up the pieces and throw them outside. He placed his hands on a sharp and heavy piece and pulled it from the floor. He accidentally dropped it from his grasp.

He let out a quiet gasp, cursing under his breath. What happened?

Beads of red dribbled onto the floor, as well as most of it was on the ice block.

A long, jagged gash had been slit up Germany's forearm. His sleeves had been rolled up, so it affected it more.

_"Germaniya,"_ Russia began.

"GWAH!" The German jumped in surprise from the Russian's voice, stepping back and slipping on a piece of ice.

He heard the sound of a door swinging open and stuff falling out from it and onto the floor.

He swung his legs over the side of the sofa, walking over to the doorway that led to the door outside.

Germany had tumbled backwards and knocked open the closet door. Garments had fallen out from it, covering the German.

Russia laughed softly. How clumsy can Germany be?

He sat up, his torso visible from the mound of clothes. A fur hat was placed on his head. It covered his blue eyes.

"How much clothing do you have in this closet?" He asked, furious. He reached up, pushing a corner of the hat off of his eyes.

Russia let out a small cough. "A lot."

He stood up, dusting the remnants of clothes from his body.

He took the hat off. He put it on Russia's head, seeing that right now he couldn't think of another place to put it. "There."

A small smile crept its way on Russia's face. Right before he broke into a coughing fit. He clutched his chest, coughing hard. It sounded as if his throat was being torn apart.

He felt Germany's hand on his back as he began to pat him. "Just let it out. Trying to keep it in would make it worse."

Russia tried to smile, pulling away. He looked over at the gash on Germany's hand. He noticed some of the blood was on his coat.

"I'm fine, I-" He was interrupted by more coughing.

Germany watched as the Russian's face grew into a shade of red. He couldn't breathe, he realized.

"Hold on; you need some water." He moved the Russian out of the way and hurried into the kitchen.

Russia only continued to hack, unable to stop.

He stepped back, leaning against the wall. His head was pounding. This was the worst migraine he's ever had.

He felt even more weaker. Without realizing it, his legs gave out from under him and he fell to his knees. His vision blurred, as everything was fading.

He felt rough hands grab him and pull him with harsh force from the floor.

Before he could do or say anything, something cold was pressed to his lips, as well as a cold liquid ran down his throat.

He coughed even more. The coughs caused him to regurgitate it and spill to the floor.

"_Gottdammit, Russland!" _Germany swore.

Germany wrapped his arms around him, slamming his hands into his back to try and make him stop.

He completely had no idea how to stop a person from coughing this much. Was this helping?

Tears formed in Russia's vision. He couldn't breathe at all. Unconsciously, he grasped the back of Germany's jacket, squeezing it in his hands.

Eventually, the hacking calmed, and it finally silenced. The only sound was Russia's feeble wheezing.

Russia could barely move. He'd fallen limp, only softly grasping Germany's jacket. His head pounded furiously. He buried his face into Germany's broad shoulder. Why couldn't the pain just go away?

"Sit down." Germany ordered, pulling him over to the sofa and placing him down.

He looked back. There was no way in getting out of the house. The door was frozen shut. Was there a backdoor? That was probably barricaded in snow as well.

He walked back to the doorway, slamming the door shut with his foot and placing the clothes back into the closet.

He picked up the black fur hat and placed it onto the top shelf, organizing it as it should be so it won't fall when it opened again. He shut the door carefully, looking down at the floor. Blood and water covered it. Blood?

Oh, right. He looked over at his arm. He grimaced once he saw the injury. Now that he thought about it, the pain flooded into his arm, but he ignored it.

It was deep, but not so deep. Crimson dripped from it, going almost to his elbow.

"That looks like it hurts." Russia pointed out with a smile.

"It's fine." Germany sighed. "I'm used to pain, really. It doesn't matter."

_I'm used to pain. _

Did that mean he could barely understand what pain was? That he couldn't tell if it were there?

He walked to the hall of the room, opening a set of cabinets on one side of the wall. He took a cloth out of it and went into the kitchen, running hot water over it before dabbing away the blood on the cut.

Russia looked around the room. The house was nearly entirely bordered by snow.

The words still rung in his head;

_I'm used to pain. _

He was used to his heart being snapped into pieces?

Used to no one caring?

Is that something that he meant?

Was it mental pain, or physical pain?

Germany's boots clinked heavily on the wood floor, signalling that he was walking back into the room.

He walked over to the front door, holding a wet cloth.

He bent down and began to wipe away the substances on the floor.

Why did Germany always have to be so immaculate and impeccable? Whenever there was a spot that was filthy, he'd always clean it.

He'd also heard Prussia say that he was something like a pervert. But, that's just Prussia. Italy explained it too. Maybe he was a pervert.

Hopefully he wasn't like France. That would be horrifying.

"Hey, Germany?" He asked.

_"Ja?" _The German didn't pause his cleaning.

"Are you a pervert?"

Germany fell silent for a couple moments. Either processing what he'd said, or just staying quiet.

_"WH-WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"_ He screeched, standing up and turning to look at him. His face was a beet red, his features contorted in anger.

"A pervert." Russia repeated blankly, only looking for an answer.

Germany looked down, his arms crossed as he said presumably some offensive slurs in German.

"_Nein. _Of course I'm not! Where did you even hear that?"

"From Prussia and Italy. They said that you have these magazines and photos of nak-"

Germany raised his hand as if to silence him. "Enough. No. I don't. Please stop talking about that."

"I heard that Japan calls you "Germany-Sama"." He smiled.

"What's that supposed to mean? Why are you so smirky about that?"

"Doesn't that mean that he sees you as someone that's ahead of things than others? He doesn't call anyone else that."

Germany blushed a bit. "Is that what it means?"

"If he really means that you're "on top of things"." Russia spoke, oblivious to what he said made Germany think the wrong way.

"Stop talking. Now." He ordered, acting imitating. His face by now was a bright crimson.

"What does beastiality mean?"

"STOP."

"No, really. Because I heard Prussia saying something about you with your dogs, and you do these things to them where you-"

"I SAID TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"What about necrophilia?"

"_NEIN!" _

"Paedophilia?"

"QUIT IT!"

"Objectophilia?"

Germany growled, too infuriated to tell him to shut up with words.

Russia stayed silent for a few moments.

...

"What does Yaoi mean?"

_"OH MEIN VERDAMMTER GOTT._ STOP TALKING!"

"OK, fine." He fell silent.

Germany grumbled, turning back and cleaning the stained floor.

"If I make you really mad, will you try and-"

"Stop." He growled a bit more calmly than before.

"Does "verdammter" have a verb meaning to it-"

"STOP. NOW. OR I WILL COME OVER THERE AND SHOVE MY COCK UP YOUR FUCKING ASS AND SPLIT YOU APART."

Russia stayed completely silent.

Germany looked over his shoulder, seeing that the Russian's eyes were widened in shock and horror.

Russia's expression converted into a soft smile.

"Does that mean yes?"

Germany only sighed.

"I guess that we can't get out of this house, because of the snow."

"What about the backdoor?"

Ah, he'd forgotten about that.

"Hopefully that door's open. We really need to get you to the hospital."

Germany stood up, taking the cloth with him and throwing it down the laundry shoot in one of the cabinets in the bathroom before going to open the backdoor to nearly the other side of the mansion.

Russia looked down. Why was Germany really here?

Was it because he wanted to really stay, or because he was just being cruel to him?

He felt a familiar tickling in his throat that signaled he was going to start coughing again.

He placed his hand over his mouth, coughing as much as he had to.

But something different happened.

He felt something coming _up _through his throat. It felt fuzzy for some reason. When did he swallow something fuzzy? Did he eat a part of the blanket Germany gave him?

The object in his throat made him start to gag. It kept moving up, closer to his mouth.

Was he going to choke to death? Why did Germany leave the room at such a convenient timing?

He coughed even harder, wanting to get the horrid sensation out. It still trailed down his throat even though it was in his mouth.

He reached his hand up to his mouth, yanking whatever the item was out.

Yet, the rest of it was still inside of him, he could clearly see what the saliva-covered item was...

A bright, red scarf.

* * *

**A/N: Spooky enough for you all? :o) honk honk. **

**That's what my friend says: Honk :o) **

**CHAPTAR FOUR SOON. **


	4. Chapter 4: Everybody Loves Fairytales

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: Okie, so I probably know what most of you are thinking:**

**ERMEFERKANGEARD. WHEY DED HE ET A SCERF? WHUDDUFUUUUUUQQQQ -Explosion-**

**That probably was way too hard to understand, I apologize. **

* * *

He couldn't stop coughing.

The scarf wouldn't end.

It stayed in his throat, making him gag and choke.

At first he was confused. But now he was plain terrified.

How did this happen? Why did this happen?!

What did Germany _do _to him?

_Was _it Germany?

The scarf pooled onto the floor by now. He could even see blood begin to spread around the floor and the scarf as well.

The scarf was tearing out his throat, he realized. He felt a sudden hotness in his eyes, tears running down his pale cheeks.

He couldn't breathe. The pain was unbearable. Where was this scarf coming from?

He heard footsteps echo into the room. The same clinking boots.

Germany watched him lazily, as if what he were doing was neutral.

Blood poured from his mouth now. The scarf was damaging his insides as it came up. He felt himself fall from the sofa and onto his knees.

Germany walked in front of him and pulled his leg back.

He sent a strong blow to the Russian's stomach. Russia let out an injured and startled cry.

He didn't say anything. The only expression on his face was a scowl, as if he found the sight sickening but didn't bother to help him.

"Germany. I can't stop. Why is this inside of me...?" He managed to choke out.

The German cocked his head to the side, mocking confusion.

"_Это мой мир сейчас."_

Russia looked up in uncertainty. Had Germany spoken in Russian? If so, did he hear him wrong?

_Это мой мир сейчас._

_This is my world now._

What did _that_ mean?!

Germany's voice sounded much more different than he ever did before.

Was it him, or was the German's voice more higher pitched?

He felt the German's firm hand grip the top of his head and begin to squish his skull.

"_Никто__ н__е__ позаботи__тся__о__ ваш__ей__ жизн__и,__ в__ы__ бесполезны__й__ позо__р."_

_No one will take care of your life, you useless disgrace. _

The words played in his head like a record. Looking up, he noticed that the German didn't have normal eyes.

They were just plain white. No pupils. No irises. Nothing but plain whiteness. It was horrifying.

This couldn't be real. There was no way...

Just then, without any warning, Germany snapped his pale and nearly paper thin neck backward with a sickening crack and his body fell limp to the floor in a pool of crimson. His dull violet eyes stared widely in shock into the distance.

...

Violet eyes slowly opened in bewilderment. What was that all about?

He looked around. Germany wasn't in the room. Had he dreamed the entire moment? Was Germany actually not here? That was probably the weirdest dream ever.

"Bad news," He heard the German's voice as he entered the room.

"The backdoor's jammed, too."

Germany looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you shaking? What happened?" He asked what seemed to be a billion questions.

"I had a nightmare." He stated blankly, shining him a smile.

"Are you OK? What happened in it?" Germany sat beside him.

"There was a scarf in my throat."

"... I'm sorry, what? You ate your scarf?"

Russia smiled. "No. There was this red scarf in my throat. I don't know why, but it was there."

"Stop eating scarves goddammit. You're not a Juggalo." Germany stated blandly.

Russia wanted to laugh, but found that he couldn't. Why was he worried about that dream?

He felt like it signified something. But what? Loss of his dignity? Wait, no. That made no sense.

"Ah, I guess I was just being foolish." He smiled apologetically.

"Nightmares are purposeless anyway. I once had a dream that Italy was Godzilla. But that never came true, did it?"

Germany didn't see the fact of signification. That's pretty obvious. It probably meant that Italy would be more stronger than everyone else. Yet, he dared not to correct the German, afraid that Germany would have a useless argument with him.

"What does red usually signify?" He asked, curious.

"Death, blood, shame, sexual impulses, aggression, courage."

Which one of those could it be?

Blood, maybe? He was bleeding from the throat before Germany found him.

It was most definitely blood.

The two sat in silence, finding that there was nothing to talk about now.

"Do you have any books?" Germany asked him.

"Of course I do." Russia smiled.

He pointed to a small bookshelf in the corner of the room.

Germany stood up, walking over to it and seeing the books that the Russian had.

...

"_Печальное синий Заяц*"_

_"Печки!**"_

_"Слезы золота***"_

They were all written in Russian.

He could only half understand what the titles were.

_"A Poor Blue Xxxxxx"_

_"Xxxxxx!"_

_"The Tears of Xxxx" _

"You look worried." Russia pointed out.

"I can't understand Russian." Germany explained.

"It looks like English but with a bunch of numbers and upside down and backwards letters thrown in there."

"Want me to read them to you?"

"_Nein!" _Germany immediately declined.

"You're the one with a cold. _I _should be the one to read _you _a story."

Russia blinked in bewilderment.

"Besides. Doesn't your throat hurt?"

"I'll read a short one then."

"But I don't want you to-"

Russia had already snatched away one of the books in his hands

"Come on, I'll read to you!" Russia giggled, tugging him gently by his coat sleeve.

Germany sighed, seeing as though there was no escape out of this.

"This book is called "A Poor Blue Rabbit"." Russia stated after they'd sat on the sofa beside one another.

"'_A Poor Blue Rabbit'? _That sounds like a children's book." Germany eyed him in frustration. He didn't want to be read to like he was five years old.

"It doesn't have any illustrations." Russia noted, flipping through pages. "Though, it has a few red drops of something on the last page."

"Alright, fine. Read it."

Russia smiled, scooting closer to the German. He opened the book and read quietly from the first page, translating the Russian texts to English.

"In a deep dark forest, there lived a small, blue rabbit.

The rabbit had a master, whom he'd call, "Master". Master cared for her little rabbit.

"We'll be together forever, Master!" The Blue Rabbit smiled, giving his dear Master a hug with his small arms, which barely reached around her waist-"

Germany interrupted.

"Stop. Please. Don't read me a story for two year olds. I'm a grown man, Russia." He said coldly.

Russia gave him a look, and continued reading.

"Though, one day, Master had invited one of her friends over. His name had been Len.

The Blue Rabbit was saddened by the fact of his master wasn't playing with him anymore. She was spending time with Len.

He tried endlessly to get her attention. Nothing availed. The rabbit grew envious of Len stealing his master's attention. How dare he!

He wanted Master all to himself. Master was the only thing close to him.

Master felt sad one day, so she didn't pay hardly any attention to him that day, either. Why was she so sad, the Blue Rabbit thought.

Len wouldn't return, yet Master was worried and upset. She had forgotten about her little rabbit, hanging out with her friends instead.

"If I can't have you..." The Rabbit said to himself as his master was away.

"Then I can just..."

Russia turned the page to read the next line.

"EaT YOu!"

Russia looked down at the page. "What on earth...?"

He thought there were no illustrations. Without saying any words, and just lifting up the book with no expression, Russia showed Germany the disturbing and crude drawing.

It was a sketch of a childlike humanoid bunny thing, torn blue ears on its head. A blueish, reddish dyed scarf was tied around its barely existing neck. Its eyes were crazed, a long, sharp grin across the rabbit-man's face. It reached the tops of his eyelids. His head was tilted at an angle, as if to mock bewilderment. There was also a dark red colored over parts of the rabbit to show that it was bleeding, especially from the mouth.

Germany furrowed his eyebrows. "The hell?"

Russia placed the book back into his lap, reading on.

"In a deep dark forest, there lived a blue- red, rabbit.

No one dared to enter the forest, afraid of the consequences.

The rabbit remained in the forest, with the twisted, bloodied, and mangled corpse of his Master..."

The same page he read had drops of red on it. He turned the page once again, seeing another picture.

The rabbit was holding a red scarf. Blood dripped from its shriveled and torn face. Its smile seemed to go into its blue hair.

The dark, red text at the bottom read the exact words:

"I KnOw YoU'RE rEAdNG tHes, IvAN!"

"I KnOW LUDwig"S There, TOo!"

After processing the words, Russia's breath hitched in his throat and he slammed the book shut.

How did a flimsy book know his name?

How did it know he was reading it?

Who was "Ludwig"? Did the book mean Germany? Was Ludwig Germany's real name?

"What? What happened?" Germany asked him, grasping the book.

Russia looked at him worriedly, wanting to see how he'd react.

He turned to the last page. His face contorted into that of disgust and horror.

"Who would do something like this? Why do you have this book?" He asked, turning the book towards him so that Russia could see the horrid image.

It wasn't the same as before.

The rabbit, instead was holding a mangled corpse of the master, who, for some reason, her clothes had been torn off. Disgusting.

"B-but, the picture-"

"This is sick!"

He picked up the book, placing, or more as throwing, it back onto the shelf.

"The story was never like that as I recall." Russia smiled. "It was more... giddy."

Germany searched the bookshelf for another book. He picked one that read, _"Rapunzel", _He flipped through pages, since he couldn't read it. After he got to the fourth page, he slammed the book shut. "No thank you," He muttered.

He took once again, another book. This time, the boom was dark, an eerie sketch of a skeleton which had skin still attached to its face.

It was entitled, "_Life is Death". _

Germany furrowed his brows once again.

"Is this... er, considered of a scary picture in Russia?" He asked, holding up the book. On one page, there was a happy skeleton. It looked cartoon-y and the page was colored with bright colors, unlike any other story.

It was so odd how the happy fairytales were sick and twisted, but the sick and twisted nightmarish books were happy fairytales.

How had this happened?

Germany spotted a book unlike the others. It was black, hardly with any color. Why didn't it have a title?

He figured out why.

Once he opened the book, on the first page it was written in neat Japanese Kanji;

"Russia's Diary".

* * *

**A/N: Don't ask me why it was written in Japanese. I'm weird.**

**...OK, I'll explain;**

**Y'know in Hetalia how things are written in Japanese because it was originally made in Japan, and they wanted Japanese people to understand it? **

**There ye go. **

**NOW I'LL EXPLAIN DE SENTENCES IN DE FOREIGN LANGUAGES BECAUSE ALL OF YOU HATE IT WHEN I SPEAK THE LANGUAGE OF THE GERMAN RUSSIANS;**

***"_Печальное синий Заяц": _This was the story Russia read to Germany, "The Poor Blue Rabbit". The story was made up by the vocal simulator, Vocaloid. It's a story about about a poor blue rabbit who has love problems, what else? o3o  
**

**_**"Печки!": _Ah, yes. This, is called, _"Pechka!" _Which if you translate it to English, you'd think I'm mentally retarded because in English it's called, "_Stove!" _The VERY REASON it's called 'stove' is because you know that Hetalia song, "Pechka! The Light of My Heart!" By Russia? **

**_***"Слезы золота": _This just says, "_Tears of Gold". _I wasn't creative. I was too bored. This isn't based off of anything exciting.**

**The other ones, like in the beginning when Germany suddenly became incredibly fluent in Russian, was already translated. **

**Chaptre five sewn. **


	5. Chapter 5: Secrets that Aren't for Peeps

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: I know, I'm uploading these as fast as Speedy Gonzales on crack. **

**... That was a horrible simile. **

**I might start using onomatopoeia, which in the case of "I don't know what that means, Kitty. You arrogant duck". ONOMATOPOEIA MEANS THE ACTION OF USING WORDS THAT REPRESENT SOUNDS. EX; KA-BOOM, QUACK, MEOW, DOG BARK, DEUTSCHE MARKS, VODKA.**

**Teehee, onomato-PEE-UH. AHM SHO FUNNYEH, XD -Shot by Prussia-**

**ALSO, BEFORE WE READ. -Everyone groans in agony-**

**Did you catch the surprise from the last chapter? How it said, "Russia's Diary"? **

**WELL, I'LL EXPLAIN IT:**

**Since the stories are all opposite of each other, (Fairytales being nightmares. Nightmares being fairytales, etc.) Russia actually wrote some reasonable and happy things in his diary. Who the hell knows what Germany will read now that it's switched around. e-e**

* * *

_"'Russia's Diary'"? _

He turned the next page to see if it was written in Russian. Nope. It was written in English, besides from the signatures being in Japanese.

He looked over his shoulder in the slightest, seeing that Russia was more focused on his scarf than anything else.

Curious, Germany turned back to the book and read a bit of what was on the page to himself.

_"Dear Diary,_

_YA vizhu tebya. YA vizhu tebya. YA vizhu tebya. YA vizhu tebya. YA vizhu tebya. YA vizhu tebya. YA vizhu tebya. YA vizhu tebya. YA vizhu tebya. _

_YA znayu tebya. YA znayu tebya. YA znayu tebya. YA znayu tebya. YA znayu tabya. YA znayu tebya. YA znayu tebya. YA znayu tebya. YA znayu tebya. _

_YA znayu, chto vy delayete. YA znayu, chto vy delayete. YA znayu, chto vy delayete. YA znayu, chto vy delayete. YA znayu, chto delayete. YA znayu, chto vy delayete. YA znayu, chto vy delayete. YA znayu, chto vy delayete. YA znayu, chto vy delayete."_

...Why wasn't it in English? It was in English letters, but not language. It seemed to repeat over at over.

He flipped through all the pages. They were the same exact thing. What did it say? He finally reached the last page.

_"YA znayu, chto ty tam, Lyudvig.  
__Vy dolzhny byt' v bede dlya chteniya ch'i-to._

_I KNOW YOU'RE READING THIS, LUDWIG._

_THIS WAS A BAD CHOICE FOR YOU." _

Whoa, wait. What the hell?

How did Russia know his name? For some reason, he felt a ping of dread stab into his chest.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Russia was staring at him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, smiling.

Something told him all hell was going to break loose in this living room.

"Eh, er..." Germany tried his best not to stutter. He placed his thick arms behind his back as he turned around to hide the book. As he was turned he tried to place it back onto the shelf without it falling or attracting Russia's attention.

Was the Russian going to kill him? Why did he write those things?

"I was just-" He stammered, coming up with an explanation. He felt his hand slip-and the book slid from his grasp.

It made a soft thud against the floor. Russia eyed it.

"How did that get out here?" He giggled, standing up and walking over to pick it up. Germany could see a faint color of red appear on the Russian's cheeks.

"Ah, I got it." Germany declined. He bent down to grab the book.

"Ow!" They said in unison.

The both of them collided their heads together foolishly.

"Sorry,"

"_Nein, _it's fine."

Germany bent down, snatching the book away before Russia could take it. He stood up and walked out of the room.

"Eh, wait!" Russia gripped his sleeve softly, still on his knees on the floor. Germany froze in place, slowly turning around.

Russia's face was completely red. He looked so worried, something Germany had never seen. He was inferring that Germany was going to read it, unaware that he already had.

"Please don't read that." He begged quietly. His eyes were trained on him carefully and worriedly. Why was he so nervous? Germany even felt shaky himself. The way Russia was acting was making him feel even more disturbed.

"P-please?" He begged again. His violet eyes were as big and twinkling as a puppy's. He looked so childlike. His cheeks were a flaring crimson, as well as the tip of his pudgy nose.

_"Ja, _of course I won't!" Germany declared, acting as if the idea was mad.

Russia's sad expression immediately changed into a happy one. "Yay! Thank you!" He chided, standing up and wrapping his cold arms around the unsuspecting German's neck.

Germany, surprised by the sudden action, and alarmed by the freezing arms, fell back against the wall.

He leaned uncomfortably into the wall as the happy Russian laughed softly, nuzzling and burying his face into the German's shoulder like a kitten.

"What's so secretive in here, anyway?" Germany asked him as he was still embracing him.

Russia hesitated. "Nothing." He spoke in a soft, embarrassed whisper that was muffled from his mouth being covered by Germany's shoulder.

Nothing, eh?

Germany felt a burning sensation in his cheeks. It was kind of cute the way Russia was acting.

He moved his hand slightly to see if the book was still there, unless Russia snatched it away. It was.

Russia finally let go, smiling as he walked away. His scarf was wrapped softly around his slender neck.

Germany turned around to walk out the doorway.

He opened the first door. There was only a bed, a closet, and a window. It was a large room, though.

He looked at the diary in his hands, having a sudden thought to try and read it.

He opened the book once again, reading the pages.

Those words weren't written anymore.

It was just a bunch of plain secrets he wrote down. The words weren't there.

Creepy.

He flipped to the back of the book. The message was gone, too.

How did that happen? It was just written like that two minutes ago! He stared down at it, bewildered. Before Germany could do anything to close the book, something stopped him.

"I thought you said you wouldn't read it, Germany..." Russia's hurt, yet nonchalant voice whispered from the doorway.

* * *

**A/N: This was short, and uploaded like, an hour after the last one, I apologize. **

**GERMANY. WHO TOLD YOU YOU COULD JUST GO AND READ PEOPLE'S DIARIES? YOU DICK.**

**_*YA vizhu tebya. YA znayu tebya. YA znayu, chto vy delayete._ :**

** I see you. I know you. I know what you're doing. **

****_"YA znayu, chto ty tam, Lyudvig.  
__Vy dolzhny byt' v bede dlya chteniya ch'i-to._ : **

**I know that you're there, Ludwig.  
You must be in trouble for reading someone's secrets.**

**Chapter six soon. **


	6. Chapter 6: I'm Killing You, Silly!

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

* * *

The first emotions that swept over Germany were shock and fear.

He immediately whirled around to face the betrayed Russian.

Russia looked so upset. His eyes looked as if they'd burst with tears, his cheeks burning red from embarrassment. His heart plummeted to his stomach.

"Eh?! No! I w-was... I mean, I didn't mean to- I wasn't-" He trailed off, seeing Russia's hurt expression either sadden or become a little angry.

"You said you wouldn't read it. You just were." Russia stepped into the room.

Germany even stepped back and accidentally dropped the diary to the floor, fearing that the Russian could strangle him. Even though the Russian was incredibly weak, he didn't seem to notice that right now. Still, he was mentally strong. He could still do whatever he pleased.

Russia continued to step closer and closer, each time with more imitation.

"Why would you read that?" He asked, his eyebrows lowered in a glare.

"I wasn't reading it, Russia." Germany stated blandly, keeping a stern and serious expression.

"But you were. Do you think I'm that stupid?" Suddenly, Russia's expression turned into that of a smile. One of his creepy, eerie smiles that show that he's going to do something drastic.

Germany felt a pang in his chest. He'd always seen Russia act creepy and all that, but he couldn't remember a time he was acting that way directly to him. Indirectly, maybe. "No. I swear." He spoke softly.

Russia stepped even more closer. Before he knew it, Germany felt the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Russia was right in front of him, their faces separated by only three feet. As he could see Russia's expression more clearly, Germany could see the Russian's lips were trembling, signalling that he was going to do something Germany had never, _EVER _seen him do before. ANYONE of that fact. He was going to...

Going to...

...

Cry.

Russia's eyes burst with tears as he covered his flustered face in his hands, weeping softly. He coughed a bit, but he continued to weep.

"Ah!" Germany cried, surprised with the sudden reaction. He felt his heartbeats quicken. Why was he crying?! What was he going to do?! He'd NEVER seen Russia cry before! He had no idea what to do! He felt so panicked!

"No! Stop crying. Stop that!" He shouted. Even though he was showing anger, he was really terrified, petrified, horrified, any other word that described it.

"PLEASE! Stop crying! For the love of Gott," He felt himself dying inside. This is how Russia would kill him. By crying.

Russia didn't follow his orders, crying louder.

"Why?" He asked under his breath.

Germany felt his heart stop. Why was it so sad when he was crying, but not with Italy or anyone else?

"Russia, I swear. I wasn't reading it, I was just looking at it. I'd never read it!"

The Russian didn't reply, letting tears soak his cherry red, puffy cheeks. He kept his hands over his face to hide the sad expression behind them. Germany backed up even more, falling back onto the comforter of the bed.

Russia must've been so embarrassed. Even though Germany had absolutely no idea what he wrote, he was still awfully upset.

Germany only watched him. He had no idea what to do. He'd dealt with crying Italians, but not crying Russians. The Russian's small whimpers sounded so soft and quiet. He watched as the Russian's shoulders and chest shook with every small cry he let out.

He slowly removed a hand from his left eye, seeing Germany staring up at him in what looked like awe.

He must feel so proud of himself, Russia realized in thought.

He's actually seeing me cry.

Germany mentally scolded himself. He's just sitting here and staring at him while he's crying? He felt his heart pound hard in his chest from fear, shock, and... exhilaration.

Why did he feel this way from Russia just crying in front of him? He felt sickening! Well, he was the first one to see the Russian cry. Maybe it was normal to feel so amazed.

Germany reached out. "Russia, I-"

"Why were you looking at me like that?"

"Huh?"

"You're happy you made me cry, aren't you?" A tiny smile grew across his red face.

"Ye- NO. No I'm not!" Germany cut himself off from what he was going to say. He felt the cut in his arm burn. He forgot he had that.

Russia's small smile grew a little wider as his expression darkened.

"GYAH! Russia! What are you doing?!" Germany screeched when the Russian suddenly pounced on him in anger.

"I'm killing you, silly willy!" Russia laughed.

* * *

**A/N: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. **

**This is the moment everyone wanted to hear about. Russia killing Germany out of sheer rage. **

**No. There's no rape in the next chapters you dirty hooligans. (:B**

**So yeah, this chapters are short because I figured out a story is usually thirty or so chapters. **

**THAT DOESN'T MEAN THIS WILL BE THIRTY CHAPTERS. I'M JUST SAYING THE CHAPTERS ARE SHORT AND NOT LONG LIKE THE MONSTROSITIES I WRITE. **

**Chapter seven soon. **


	7. Chapter 7: Red Eyes and Grudges

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

* * *

Germany thrashed around to get out of the Russian's grasp.

"Let go! Let go of me goddammit!" He shouted.

Russia didn't listen.

He suddenly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Germany's sides, burying his face in the German's chest.

Germany didn't move, looking down at him.

Suddenly, a loud croaking sound came from the Russian, imitating the sound made by Kayako Saeki in the Japanese movie, _Ju-On__. _

"Russia?" Germany asked him. He sounded like a creaky staircase that wouldn't stop creaking.

"Russia, stop that. What's wrong with you?"

The Russian didn't pay attention. He lifted his head up to look at Germany in the slightest, resting his chin against Germany's sternum. He continued to make the creepy croaking noise, his mouth opened and forming a wide 'o'.

"Is this your idea of killing people?"

Russia smiled. "If I kill you I'll be alone and probably murder myself too. But you're scared, see?"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"I'm not scared." Germany said in annoyance.

"You are, scaredy-cat!"

Germany groaned, pushing the Russian away.

"You're worse than Prussia." Germany noted.

Russia smiled, but then it turned into a sad frown.

"I am?"

Germany's expression softened.

"You're really upset about me... saying... that...?" He asked, trailing off as he looked at Russia bewildered.

Something was up with Russia's eyes. He couldn't take his gaze away from them.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward.

"Germany?" Russia leaned back.

Germany only moved closer. He placed his hand at the back of the nation's head to keep him from moving away.

"What are you doing?" Russia asked again.

Germany leaned closer until they were practically breathing each other's air.

Russia could only stare into his bright eyes. They were the only things he could see.

"Wh-why is your eye red?" Germany asked him. His voice sounded so close and gruff.

"Huh?" Russia moved from his grasp.

"Red? Really? I don't have sleep deprivation." He spoke, laughing with disbelief.

Germany frowned. He grasped the Russian's hand.

"Not that kind of red."

Russia struggled to keep up with Germany's fast pace as they walked out of the room. They walked to the restroom, looking into the sink's mirror.

"Look." Germany urged, pushing Russia closer to the mirror so he could see.

Russia moved his head from side to side, training on the red iris. It wasn't red from sleep deprivation or anything like that. The iris was a bright crimson. Why was his eye RED?

"What's happening to you?" Germany asked him.

"I don't know. But I think that-"

"It was a rhetorical question." Germany cut him off before he could say an entire speech.

"Are you really becoming Prussia?" Germany asked, eyeing him.

Russia looked over at him, his one red eye standing out clearly. "No!" He protested.

He sighed, turning back to the mirror.

All of the sudden, he felt a ping of what felt like electricity course through the red eye.

"Ouch!" He gasped, placing a hand over his throbbing eye.

"What? What's going on?"

"M-my eye hurts." Russia stammered.

He stared through his right violet eye, his red eye stinging with pain every time he opened it.

"Did you get anything in it? Let me see." He moved away his hand.

"Open your eye."

"But it hurts." Russia smiled childishly.

Germany didn't pay any attention, using his index finger and his thumb to push open the Russian's eyelids.

"Ah!" Russia let out small cries. He tried to shut his eyelids, but Germany kept his eye open.

The eye began to water from the pain, tears falling from the ends of his eyelid. "That really hurts!" Russia claimed.

For some reason, the eye looked as if it were having a hard time deciding what shade of red it wanted to be.

It changed from red, to crimson, to dark red, to brown, to pink. It even flashed the color of purple a couple times.

What the hell was happening to this poor man's eye?! It was like having a color seizure.

Red dribbled from the eyelid. His eye was bleeding.

Germany stared, shocked and bewildered.

"Your eye is bleeding..." He noted, awestruck.

"Wh-what?!" Russia asked, opening his eyes widely-which caused a lot more pain to course through his head.

"KYAH!" He cried in agony, grasping the sides of his head.

"Please. It hurts. Make it stop..." Russia begged. The pain was unbearable.

"I don't know how!" Germany shouted back.

The crimson ran down the left side of his face, dripping from his chin.

"I-I... I can't..."

Suddenly, Russia stopped moving, his hands fell to his sides, and he fell forward.

"_Russland!" _Germany reached out, grasping the Russian roughly so he wouldn't hit the hard floor.

He examined the Russian carefully. He really needed to go to the hospital for Christ's sake!

He hurriedly carried the Russian over his shoulder, placing him on the living room sofa and going to try and see if the snow had died down.

Everything was plain white outside. There was no sign of anything.

He twisted the knob-and the door wouldn't budge in the slightest.

* * *

**A/N: -Gasps- BLEEDING EYES AND BARRICADED DOORS? -Falls back in agony-**

**Chapter eight soon. Und I promise that it won't be as OOC as this one. e-e**


	8. Chapter 8: Goddamn 2P's

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: Okie, this chapter reminded me a lot of Olaf from Disney's Frozen. **

**Olaf: ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS SEE SUMMER! D:**

**Russia: ME TOO, COMRADE! -hugs-**

**Next thing you know, I'll make him tap-dancing with seagulls wearing a top hat-thingy and a cane. **

**CURSE YOU, FROZEN! FOR MAKING ONE OF MY FAVORITE GOOFY CHARACTERS!**

* * *

Once Russia's eyes opened, he could see the sunlight.

The sun.

All he ever wanted to see was the beautiful sun. The smell of spring, summer, and autumn.

Summer and spring. Those were his favorite.

He was laying in a field of sunflowers, the bright yellow and orange petals of the elegant foliage dancing above him.

He sat up, looking around. That's all he could see. Sunflowers, going on for miles!

He stood up. The sun beat down, making the flowers' petals glitter in its light like drops of dew on grass in an early morning.

They were taller than him! Some of them were short, some of them were just above his head, resting in his beige hair. Most of them were almost eight feet tall!

What season was this? He couldn't feel a breeze, yet there were flowers everywhere. Was it spring or summer?

The plants swayed though there wasn't a single gust of air to move them.

He felt the petals of the flower right above him tickle his cheeks. He giggled. It felt as if it were licking his cheek like a happy canine.

His most favorite thing in the world, sunflowers. Not including vodka.

The flowers's sways seemed to grow more intense. What was happening? How were they moving like that? They seemed to increase their movements each second.

Before he knew it, the petals turned to a bright crimson. They grew more string-like, and began to attach to one another.

It was a long line of red fabric.

The scarf.

He didn't react fast enough. The red fabric began to coil him around in itself.

It bounded his arms to the sides of his body, making so he couldn't move.

The grass he was standing in became more darker and blacker. It even seemed to be gooey and sticky like a type of honey.

He struggle in his binds. Why was this red scarf everywhere?! This dream turned into a nightmare!

Looking straight forward, Germany was standing in front of him. Where did he come from?

"Germany? What's happening?" He heard himself ask.

Germany raised an eyebrow. "Is that really who you see me as?" He asked in an unfamiliar voice.

"What do you mean? Could you let me down, please?" He smiled shyly, keeping his voice soft but stern.

"I mean that I'm not that German Hasselhoff." He replied scornfully.

"Here, let me put the image in your head so you can see me as I am." He cleared his throat briefly, stepping forward with his hands calmly behind his back.

"I look exactly like you," He stated. After he'd said that, his form began to twist and turn, morphing into exactly what he looked like now.

"Except I have red eyes," His eyes turned a dark red. "Darker hair," His hair, as well, turned into a light brown.

"Oh, I also have a black coat, red scarf, and I'm much more stronger than _you." _

His coat faded into a dark black, his scarf tinting into a red shade. He even grew more bulky and taller.

"There; see me now?" He asked in a hushed voice that was deeper than his own. He spoke quietly, unlike how Russia most of the time spoke quite louder.

"Who are you?" Russia narrowed his eyes. "An evil double?" He smiled a bit, finding the fact funny and unrealistic.

"Something close to that." The twin stated blandly.

"Though. I'm not the evil one."

Russia eyed him. Did he mean _he _was the evil one?

"I might look dark and creepy," He stated, beginning to pace around the tied Russian.

"but really, believe me. Look at yourself. You're "cute and vibrant". But you're not really."

"I'm the opposite of you, Ivan."

"So, you are saying you're cute and vibrant on the inside?" Russia asked in confusion.

"NO." He growled in reply.

Russia smiled warmly again. "Can you turn back into Germany? You really act like him, Mr., Second... me, person." He giggled.

"My name is Alex, you goddamn moron."

"That wasn't really nice." Russia said sadly.

"It wasn't supposed to be. Can't you listen for five minutes?"

Russia smiled. "I don't know, Mr. Alex."

After he said that, a sharp blow was sent to the side of his head by a sharp edged, large entity. It made a steel like thunk when it smashed into the side of his skull.

"AGH!" Russia cried out from the swing.

"That should knock your mentally retarded mind into place." Alex spoke curtly.

Russia looked over. Alex was holding a shovel, blood staining it from when it hit his head.

"What was that for? that really hurt!" Russia exclaimed.

Alex didn't reply, walking in front of him.

"You know, I've been trying to take over your conscience for some time now." He stated. "That red eye thing, the creepy books. I really have no idea how they also affected your little German friend." He tapped his chin. "Oh well."

Russia highly had any idea of what was happening. He had a second self? How?

Alex crossed his arms. "Might as well let you go since you already know about these plans." He snapped his fingers, and everything went black.

...

Russia tossed and turned in his sleep, signing that he was about to wake up. Yet, he fell still and a small smile crossed his face.

Germany sighed. What the hell could he do? Absolutely nothing. The only activity he had was to stare at Russia while he slept, which wasn't as fun as it sounded.

He'd forgotten that he hadn't eaten in a while. What _was _the last thing he ate? Not to mention he felt pretty nervous about the fact that Russia's eye was bleeding. He had placed a warm rag over the bleeding part, but the problem was that they still couldn't leave because of the goddamn snow.

Walking into the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator to find that there wasn't even anything inside. The only thing that was there were packs of soup, and a couple of expired leeks.

Looking lower, he noticed some bottles of vodka.

He hadn't drank any alcohol in what seemed like years. Maybe a few wouldn't hurt.

He bent down and picked two bottles from the fridge, shutting it then going over to sit at the small table by the side of the room next to the hallway door.

* * *

**A/N: We all know what this means. **

**Germany + Alcohol = EVERYTHING. **

**Will Germany be drunk in the next chapter? **

**... **

**We all know the answer to that question. **

**CHAPTER NINE SOON. Is it chapter nine? I forgot. **


	9. Chapter 9: Stop Drinking!

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: I listened to Discord produced by WoodenToaster while writing this. That song is BAD ASS!**

**"I curse the name,  
The one behind it all!**

**DISCORD.  
I'm howlin' at the moon.  
And sleeping in the middle of a summer afternoon.**

**DISCORD.  
What ever did we do?  
To make you take our world away?" **

* * *

Russia shifted a bit, waking up to stare at the ceiling.

What was that dream all about? Who was _Alex? _

Was there really some kind of spirit trying to kill him?

Nah, that's nonsense! He smiled to himself, sitting up and looking around. Where did Germany go?

He walked to the kitchen, seeing that Germany was face down in the table. There were a couple of empty vodka bottles around him, confirming that he'd been drinking.

"Germany?" Russia smiled softly as he walked to the other end of the table.

The German's head flew up in surprise, causing his chair to tilt of its hind legs from the force.

"Wait- wha-... Wh-where did you come from? I thought you were sleeping." He spoke rather a bit louder than he usually did, stuttering over words. His squinted eyes were more narrowed, since he'd been sleeping himself.

Russia nodded. "How many of those did you drink?" He pointed to the bottles, smiling a bit as he tilted his head.

Germany looked confused for a moment, then took notice of the bottles around him. His expression changed, as if he were saying, "when the hell did all these bottles get here?"

"F...fi-... s-four?" He said in more of question form.

That definitely wasn't four bottles. Probably six. Or seven. God knows how much.

He got up from his chair, slipping slightly as his boots made loud squeaks against the mahogany floorboards. He gripped the table, staring down at the floor as if it were possessed.

"Holy shit, did you see that shit?" He asked, looking like he was paranoid.

"I could've... I like... died almost."

Russia giggled. "Yes, yes you could've." He played along, watching the bewildered German struggle to maintain his balance.

He stood straight for a moment, walking forward then tripping over his foot.

"Whoa!" He cried, falling forward. Russia held out his hands, catching him, right before he started to sink to the ground because of how heavy Germany was and how weak he was. They both fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Germany stupidly stayed on top of Russia, forgetting the Russian was much more weaker than he was now, and he was typically crushing him.

"Eh- G-Germa-... I can't... please!" He begged quietly, hardly finding his voice as his lungs were being smashed. He could plainly smell the scent of vodka from the German's breath.

Germany grunted slightly, sitting up and stumbling to his feet.

He's completely intoxicated, Russia thought. So intoxicated, he's acting humorous and goofy.

"That vodka, is some good ass vodka." He stated slyly, leaning against a chair, which fell from his weight. He stumbled, looking down at it in shock.

"Why the fuck is everything fucking trying to murder me?" He asked, eyeing the chair carefully.

"OK, Germany. I think that's enough alcohol for you." Russia smiled, placing a soft hand on the German's bulky shoulder.

Germany yanked himself away, spazzing around for a few moments. "Don't... don't you touch me, you diseased camel."

Russia looked hurt by his words for a moment, but recovered with a smile. "_Germaniya, _you need some rest."

"I'm... I'm not G-Germania. Do I look like I have long hair?" He questioned, taking the Russian speech as a different country's name.

Russia ignored him, reaching out to tug his coat forward slightly to get him to follow. He paused.

Why was it so suddenly he felt so nervous and embarrassed to touch him? It was like he was trying to talk to someone he didn't know, and he's trying to tap their shoulder to get their attention, but he was too flustered of the person's attitude.

That might be why. He was nervous about Germany's attitude.

Germany stared back at him, the two of them staring back at each other's eyes.

Germany's hardened gaze softened, letting his muscles relax which he didn't know were tensed.

"You have a really pretty face." He commented.

Russia raised an eyebrow. He had a pretty face? Is that really what Germany just told him?

The German's warm hand against his cheek snapped him from his thoughts. He rubbed his cheek with the tips of his knuckles, watching as the Russian's cheeks slowly grew into a light pink.

"Germany, what are you doing?" He asked him, smiling to replace his surprised expression.

The German didn't answer, continuing to make Russia feel uncomfortable.

Russia backed away, making Germany walk closer.

"Germany, stop that. Sit back down." Russia instructed with a smile, walking over and pushing the German softly over to the chair.

Germany swiftly moved over, grabbing the Russian's arm without moving any part of his body besides his arms.

Russia looked up at him, befuddled. Germany tightened his grip on the Russian's hand. He looked so mad.

"I told you not to touch me." He stated firmly, In a voice as gruff as a rusty nail.

"Germany what are you-"

Russia was answered by the German lifting his arm with ease; throwing Russia across the kitchen as easily as a paper plane.

Russia flew back with force, knocking over the bread shelf as he slammed into it. The loud clatter echoed through the empty mansion as Russia was basically smashed by the shelf. The items were scattered around the room.

Russia looked back up and pushed the shelf off of his form. Only weakly, since he was still sick. He was surprised by his friend's sudden strength. How the hell did he throw him across the room like that?!

He coughed, trying to get up. The shelf was too heavy. He couldn't push it off. The shelf was crushing his lungs.

He kicked around and still struggled to get it off. Coughing harder and harder. Until he could barely breath through his withered throat anymore.

He whipped his head back up. Germany seemed so shocked.

Russia reached out his arm while pushing the shelf back with the other. He couldn't speak. He tried to choke out words, or to whisper them. In any way Germany could see his pain. The world seemed to blur and disappear right before his very eyes.

Germany seemed to stop for minute. Then his expression softened, and he hurried over to him.

Without uttering a single word, he took the end of the shelf and pushed it off Russia. Once the shelf was off of his body, Russia could breathe regularly. A bit.

Russia laid on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as Germany shoved away the bread shelf and put it back on its legs.

"Y-you could've killed me. That easily." Russia said under his breath.

He staggered once he'd stood up. Germany helped him a bit, though still rather tipsy.

Germany stumbled back. What the hell was happening? Why did it feel like he was going to faint?

Without any warning he collapsed to the floor, everything fading to black once his head connected with the wooden structure.

* * *

**A/M: I have one, important thing to say. This thing is something, that I just have to say after writing this. To be known. To all of you. To explain this devastation. Just please, hear me out. Maybe then you'll understand these cruel acts. These three words...; **

**Germany, stop drinkin'. **

**There. Now that THAT'S over, chapter ...nine? ten? eight? i dunno. I forgot. **

**Chapter TEN soon. ye, its ten. yeeeeyyy. **


	10. Chapter 10: Take Your Tyranny Away!

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: I'm obsessed with that Discord song. **

**I legitimately named this chapter; "Take Your Tyranny Away!" **

**I dunno. dis don't have anything to do with tyranny, right? **

**nu. im just bor- WHOA WHAI HWOAI. NU IS A WORD, GUYS. WTF? It doesn't say i spelled it wrong. :o IMMA GOGGLE IT. *GOOGLE. **

**I call Googling Goggling now. Don't ask me why. **

**... I was just being stupid. Nu has a lot of meanings.**

**P.S., I have to listen to bad ass, hardcore music to write fight scenes. Yus, you read that right. this chapter has a fight scene.**

* * *

Germany's eyes opened. The hell?

He realized his head was on the table. He pulled himself forward, feeling a strong headache form in his skull.

He cursed, holding his throbbing temples. Did that all ever happen? He definitely was drinking; there were empty bottles of vodka around the table, and he was hungover.

"Germany? Are you alright in there?" Russia's soft voice echoed as he walked closer to the door.

He seemed so neutral. It was all likely a dream.

"_Ja." _Germany said as he rubbed his head.

"Is there any medicine to help with headaches?" He asked, looking around.

"I have Tylenol. Will that help?' Russia questioned as he walked to the cabinets behind Germany's chair and by the sink.

"No, Russia. It'll fucking give me AIDS." Germany spoke in a curt sarcastic manner.

Russia seemed to take it seriously; "Oh dear. I'm sorry. I never knew," He smiled. He slowly began to close the cabinet.

"No. It was sarcasm, Russia. You don't take that seriously."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"OK, I'm sorry."

"No. Stop."

"Sorry."

Germany put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Sorry." Russia smiled innocently, turning his back to him to search the cabinet.

"I SAID TO STOP FUCKING SAYING THAT!"

"Why is it such an issue? All I'm saying is sorry." Russia tried to stifle a giggle.

Germany looked at him. Even if Russia was near death, he was still his evil, dark, annoying, psychotic, schizophrenic self.

He could hear the Russian faintly humming. It sounded like a joyful tune, but he didn't want to ask him what it was.

Germany growled once he felt his head pound even harder. he felt his palms over his forehead as if to stop it magically.

"Germany? Are you OK? Does your head hurt that bad?" Russia shut the cabinet to confirm that the medicine wasn't there.

When he didn't get an answer, he stepped toward him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Germany, I-"

The German jerked his shoulder back.

"Leave me alone!" He shouted. Yet that only accomplished in making his head throb more.

"I'm sorry." Russia smiled.

"I told you to stop saying that."

"I'm sor-"

"Quit it! Say the next sentence without saying 'sorry'!" Germany urged. Fury seemed to glow like fire in his azure eyes.

Russia thought for a minute.

"I'm."

"What?"

"I'm." You told me to take out the sorry, so I'm."

"That doesn't make it any better." Germany complained.

"Sorry."

He growled through gritted teeth.

"Oops! I'm sorry!" Russia smiled. He caught himself. "Oh, I mean... I'm sor- I didn't- I apolo- I-"

"Shut up."

Russia looked at the German. He opened his mouth to talk.

"No. Just stop. Everything you say is useless."

Russia sank down a bit. He actually felt hurt by his words.

"I don't mean to say those things. I'm just silly." He giggled.

That stupid, childish, fucking retarded laugh, Germany thought.

How did he feel this sudden hatred for this poor Russian? He couldn't remember. It wasn't because he just kept saying sorry.

"What's wrong with you? A headache can't affect you _that _much." Russia stated, not liking Germany's stressed mood.

"Leave me alone. My head is killing me. Please, just find the Tylenol."

"You could be a bit more polite. I mean, I'd love to help you."

"When have you ever helped me?" Germany asked.

Russia fell silent.

When _did _he ever help Germany?

. . .

"See? You've never helped me. I saved you from death. More specific, suicide. I'm starting to regret it. I should've left you there. What they say is true; You're a useless country." Germany scoffed.

Russia stared in disbelief. This whole time he thought Germany was helping him. He thought he cared.

"What do you do with the world? Nothing. Nothing at all. If you were in complete control, you'd kill us all.

You're truly the true definition of an abomination; you were smashed in the head during a war, also seeing all of the years of bloodshed and misery. You're brain is just a corrupted mess. It's not even a brain at all. You're brain damage is awful, you're a terrible being. No one that I know at all likes you."

"Germany. I never meant to-"

"You say you try to help us. But you don't. You may be a strong country, but you're the worst. Your cracked mind isn't even a human's. It's like you're some sort of animal. You don't deserve to be a country. Neither will you ever be one if you try. I don't know what kind of god thought it was wise to give you life. Any other person would make a better country than you. You're too childish; you're face doesn't even look in any way of the word 'manly'.

You're just a mentally retarded, demented, hated, feared, fucked up disgrace."

Looking up, Germany saw that Russia's face was a beat red.

He was so flustered and upset. His eyes glittered in the light from tears that were forming in the violet orbs. He had the face equivalent to a little baby's.

Germany continued to eye him.

Russia's face suddenly converted to anger.

He had nothing to say back. Nothing. All Germany said was true.

Without thinking clearly, he fell forward and extended his arm back; taking the German by surprised and punching him across his cheek.

Germany immediately got up from his chair, taking Russia by his neck and slamming his now frail figure to the wall. Russia grimaced, rolling hard over to his side and knocking Germany away.

Germany wasn't stunned for long. He grasped Russia and threw him to the table, which he conveniently landed on and knocked everything off. The bottles clanked to the floor and broke noisily. The shards cut up Germany's feet, since he wasn't wearing boots. Crimson stained the floor.

Russia accidentally fell from the high table, tumbling into a chair and knocking it down with him.

The chair scraped against the wood, making a deafening screech.

Russia smashed his head into the floor, as well as rolling to the side and hitting it against the bottom of the left wall also.

He laid motionless for a few moments, his beige bangs over his eyes. He began to get up. Germany watched him. Killing him would be easy. Wouldn't it?

* * *

**A/N: GERMANY. NO! PLEASE! D: **

**I know, this wasn't as much of a fight scene. There's more fighting in the next chapter. I already met my point to stop. Which is over 1,000 words. **

**FIGHTING CHAPTER ELEVEN SOON. **


	11. Chapter 11: Red

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: I'm still listening to Discord. That HAS to be my favorite fan made song.**

* * *

Before Russia got up, he felt hands grasp his scarf and yank him back.

Germany smashed his face into the wall with a loud crack. The taller nation threw himself back to knock Germany off him, which accomplished in throwing him to the floor.

Russia grasped the German's neck and pushed him with force on his back.

"I was trying to help you! What is your problem?" He asked. He shined a smile and laughed a bit as he held the squirming German down.

Germany grunted, lifting his legs and kicking him back by his stomach. Russia fell backwards and hit himself into the edge of an open door hard.

He let out a soft squeak of pain once he felt the contact. Russia watched the German dust off the shards of glass that were now sinking into his flesh and cutting up his attire. For a minute, he swore he could see a glint of purple in Germany's eyes.

He realized he had hesitated too long, and Germany sent a kick to his stomach. He shrieked in agony, wincing and clutching his stomach as he felt pain shoot through him. The pain was much worse since he hardly ever ate anything

Germany kicked him again. With more force. Russia faced the pain and stood up quickly. He sent his fist into Germany's face, making the blond haired nation dazed for a moment and stumble back.

He took one of the remaining vodka bottles on the table and broke it over Germany's head. His cheek was scratched by a shard, as well as his chin. The azure eyed nation growled and tried to pull back the ends of Russia's scarf to suffocate him.

Holding his scarf with one hand, he threw a fist into Russia's face. Russia himself tried to choke him back, clawing at the German's throat.

Germany grasped a large, sharp fragment of one of the bottles and aimed it at Russia. He cut a small portion of the Russian's throat. Although to anyone else, the injury wouldn't be so effective. But Russia's neck was really sensitive.

He gasped and fell back, holding a hand over the bleeding gash. His eyes were widened, shocked by the attack.

Germany took the chance and shoved the Russian back, making him fall and slam his head into the doorknob and fling the door shut with his body.

He laid on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. He coughed, writhing in pain in the shards of glass on the withered and scratched mahogany floor.

Germany kicked his side, making him roll over and let out a soft groan.

He was bleeding from his nose a bit, and he wouldn't get up at all. He beat him.

Russia slowly staggered onto his knees, and suddenly fell forward and held himself up with his hands.

He started to cough. Coughing, coughing, and coughing more. Shortly after, his coughs began to sound like gags and retches. With each hack his body trembled and shook as if he'd fall down.

Germany watched him. He definitely wasn't OK.

_Good, _he heard a voice almost whisper in the back of his head.

Russia's cough silenced, yet something much worse happened;

He vomited. The vomit was a bright red color.

It stained the already filthy floor. It grew even darker once he puked even more.

Germany stared in horror. What should he do?! He felt a complete snap in his mood. He even seemed to forget why he was hurting him in the first place. His eyes grew more brighter and formed into a light blue. Almost a blue Caribbean color.

_"R-Russland! Bitte verzeihen Sie mir! Ich wollte nicht, Sie zu verletzen! _I never meant to do this! Please, I am sorry!" He didn't notice that he'd sank to his knees beside the Russian. He felt so terrified. He was too worried. He was never this upset ever in his life. It was because Russia was still a strong and powerful country, and he was afraid of the consequence.

It was also because, he felt as though the Russian was his friend.

Russia heaved heavily, staring wide eyed at the dark crimson substance on the floor. He couldn't hear anything that Germany was saying.

The only thing he saw in place of the red blood was a red scarf.

He fainted and fell forward, staining his tank top with a dark hue.

"Russia?" Germany pulled him up and shook him a bit. The Russian didn't reply, bobbing around lifelessly.

"Russia, wake up." He spoke almost calmly in his deepened voice. He didn't realize that he was basically caressing the Russian in his thick arms.

"Russia. Russia please." He pleaded even more weakly and urgently. His voice cracked from terror.

Why wouldn't he move?

Was he breathing?

Did he have a pulse at all?

Was he dead?

"I-I said _wake up! _Now! Wake up! _Wake up! Please!" _He cried in anguish. He felt so angry but horrified. He didn't feel tears run down his cheeks.

He was crying for the first time in his life.

For someone who he hardly even looked at as a friend.

He pressed his head to the Russian's now small chest.

_Thump...thump...thump... _

He was still alive. His heart was beating so slowly.

If only the doors would open.

The doors!

Quickly, he got up and rushed to the front door.

It wouldn't open.

He went to the back door.

It wouldn't budge.

None of the doors would. They weren't locked. The windows didn't even open.

They were stuck.

He sighed, turning back into the kitchen.

He found out something rather chilling;

Russia was gone.

* * *

**A/N: You pissed Russia off Germany. You arsehole. **

**I'm either deciding on doing something cute and fluffy with Russia's disappearance, or something dark or twisted. **

**You vote in the reviews. Cute and fluffy or dark and twisted disappearance? **

**I'm no good at dramatic things. D: I might even choose one if I want. 'Cause Imma jerk. **

**Chapter twelve soon. **


	12. Chapter 12: Dolls

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: Okie, so a person asked me in the reviews how I can I make something nice and adorable happen if I made something so tragic and sad happen? **

**I have explained that this isn't necessarily a happy-go-lucky story. My way of cute and fluffy isn't what you'd think it is. It's something much different. It's more of a bonding situation afterwards. I have a weird disorder where I always write things devious and gruesome. Plus, it CAN be cute and fluffy. The both of them are grown men who have been through a thousand wars, I mean come on. I'm sure a fight won't literally kill them. They're not as weak as two little girls. Especially Russia. Just because he acts like one doesn't mean he is one. :u I have said all I have needed. I wish I could explain that to you in a PM so I didn't have to waste all this space, but you are a guest. **

**So there. My terrible explanation. Even though you probably aren't here to read this, and you probably don't care. But that's OK. **

* * *

"Russia? Where did you go?" Germany looked around.

The Russian just vanished from thin air.

The mess was still on the floor. That would be rather difficult to clean.

He backed a bit and walked the other way. Where did he go?

He walked down the halls and opened doors, looking in the large rooms for him.

He opened the second to last door in the hall.

Russia was sitting on the bed, his head in his hands as he stared down at the floor.

"Russia?" Germany walked in slowly, observing the Russian's reaction.

_"Da?" _Russia asked softly. He seemed to keep a nice tone.

Germany sighed, stopping before he was even one foot in front of the bed.

"Are you OK? I mean, you were vomiting blood. I'm sure that you're not OK."

The Russian didn't answer. He kicked his legs a bit.

"We really need to find a way to get out of this hell. You have to go to a hospital." He rubbed his head, as well as wiping the blood on his face.

Russia looked over his shoulder. His face was bruised, yet he still maintained his smile.

Quite an eerie smile, as he noticed.

"I am fine. It wasn't important. I'm not dying." He coughed, which was more rough.

"I'm just really sick."

Germany stayed silent. Russia was rather thimble and weak now. Was it true it was just his sickness?

He sat down on the opposite side of the bed from Russia.

"That was a pretty terrible thing I did to you. I'm so sorry. I didn't necessarily mean to hurt you like that. I couldn't control what I was doing."

"Oh, it's fine. I'm fine."

"Why are you acting so neutral about this? I literally could've killed you just then."

"Stop worrying!" Russia smiled and turned to look at him.

"Although the things you said were rather heartbreaking, I'm fine!"

Germany looked down. "I'm sorry about that, too."

He let out a quiet sigh once again. "If you're really mad at me, then you can try and kill me if you want. I really don't-"

He was cut off by a fist connecting to the back of his head and nearly fracturing his skull.

"Ow!" He rubbed his head, wincing.

"What the hell was that?" He looked back, infuriated.

Russia's smile had disappeared. "You said I could try and kill you. I just wanted to hit you again."

Germany looked at Russia. He was almost fully soaked in crimson.

Germany felt his headache return, yet tried his best to ignore it. His injuries burned. He bet Russia's injuries were even more painful.

Russia was rubbing the scratch on his neck. He seemed so worried about it. What was so important about keeping his neck covered? Why was he overreacting to just a cut? Germany hadn't yet understood Russia's sensitivity in his neck.

Without saying anything, Russia got up and went to the drawer, and pulled out knee cut shorts with a t-shirt.

"I'll be right back," He said quietly and left the room.

Germany looked down at his own appeal. His jacket was torn, a bit of crimson against it.

He unbuttoned it, taking the garment off and sitting it aside on a the arm of a nearby chair. He wore a black tank top underneath it.

He raised his left leg, setting it on his right knee. He had cuts on it from the glass on the floor. There were even shards still in his feet.

He pulled the shards out, cursing when they burned like hell.

"Damn," He muttered once he'd pulled out a large fragment.

He let his legs fall over the edge and hit the floor.

He looked down at the floor.

What the hell was happening to them? _Why _was it happening?

He looked up to the mirror of the closet door just in time to see a sudden dark figure walk behind him in the reflection.

"Russia?" He looked over.

Nothing was there.

He felt something nudge his side. He looked down.

It was a little doll.

He picked it up and studied it a bit.

It wore a World War II field cap, as well as two purple buttons for eyes. There was a dark line underneath the left eye, signalling as a scar. The doll also had blond hair, slicked back like his. Its dark jacket was shown to be strung over his shoulders, showing a black shirt under. It also had little scars on his forearms. His pant legs were a dark, grayish green and puffy a bit, yet the black boots he wore seemed to fit is stub-like legs. It had no mouth, ears, or a nose. Just violet eyes.

It seemed to represent a man. Presumably from the German military. He looked like a soldier of some kind. Why did Russia have this?

He turned it around and saw some sort of writing on its back. It was in German;

_"Es ist besser, wenn Sie Ihr eigenes Grab schaufeln. _

_Lutz."_

He understood what it said;

_"It is better if you dig your own grave. _

_Lutz." _

Lutz? Was that a type of name? It sounded like some sort of nickname.

For Ludwig.

He eyed the doll, starting to feel paranoid.

It stared at him lifelessly. Its buttoned eyes seemed so taunting.

...

Russia stared into the mirror and cleaned his face, after he'd cleaned the rest of his body.

After the remnants of crimson were gone, he placed the wet cloth onto the end of the sink and turned to his clothes.

He undressed and put on the other clothes he'd got, opening the bathroom door and stepping out. He paused.

What was that in the corner of his eye?

He looked over, seeing a doll resting on the small table next to the bathroom's door.

He stepped to it.

It wore a black coat, which went down to its knees. It still wore black boots and pants. It also had a long, red scarf and matching crimson buttoned eyes. Its brown hair seemed to perk out a bit, yet it had no other feature.

He grasped it, browsing it curiously. Where did this little guy come from? He looked cute.

He poked its little face.

He was oblivious to the writing on the back, walking into the room where Germany had been waiting.

* * *

**A/N: OK, so that wasn't so bond-ish like. It will be more friendlier in the next chapters. **

**Chapter thirteen soon. **


	13. Let's Pronounce Words With Russia

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: Y'know something funny? **

**I have a German cross necklace that was made in Italy. **

**Hue. **

* * *

Russia stared at the text on the small doll.

_"Vahsa zhizn' podkhodit k kontsu. Primite eto._

_Aleks." _

_"Your life is about to end. Accept it._

_Alex." _

How absurd! Who could just say this to him? Printed on a doll!

The name Alex sounded faintly familiar. So familiar, that it was chilling to think about.

"So, do you have any idea how this could have happened?" Germany asked him as he eyed his own little doll.

He pulled its arms out a bit so he could see its form fully. Nothing really different about it. It had a necklace around its neck. What was that?

He looked closer. It was a German cross. He didn't see it before because it'd blended in with his shirt. There was a back to it.

He flipped the metal necklace over to read what was on the back in capital, small letters.

**MATERIALIZED IN EASTERN GERMANY. **

**FOR LUDWIG BEILSCHMIDT. **

**1301. **

Confused, he looked down at his own necklace and read its back;

**MATERIALIZED IN WESTERN GERMANY. **

**FOR LUDWIG BEILSCHMIDT. **

**1967. **

So the doll's necklace was made in Eastern Germany?

It was made in Prussia.

Prussia made this for him six hundred sixty-six years before he got his.

...

Because that wasn't cliche or anything.

He realized the necklace was fake. It was made from scrap metal and it was painted poorly. It just had a fake date.

But how did this know his name?

He sighed and looked at the doll-sized garment on its highly distinguishable neck.

Its eyes literally glowed for a split second.

"So, where do you think these dolls came from?" Russia asked him.

"I thought you made them."

"I can only make _Matryohska,_ silly!" Russia giggled.

Germany narrowed his eyes. _"Mahtrozhja?" _He asked, not pronouncing it right at all.

Russia laughed. "No; _Mah-tree-oh-sh-kah." _

_"..." _

"Go on; say it."

_"Matrjoschka." _

"Close enough." Russia smiled.

"What is that?"

"A Russian nesting doll."

"Oh." Germany blushed. Why hadn't he'd known that?

"Could you try to pronounce more Russian words?" Russia smiled happily.

"Why?" Germany grumbled.

"It's funny."

Germany looked down, annoyed.

He looked back up to see Russia attempting to persuade him with a stupid cliche; sad puppy eyes.

His big violet eyes gleamed and sparkled sadly, his cheeks puffed out and his cleaned scarf covering his small lips. He made it look even more heartbreaking and persuasive than Italy's.

"Fine," He sighed.

Russia beamed excitedly. "Yay!"

Without intending it, he flew forward and pulled the German into a hug. Germany sighed. How could a fight to the death lead to a Russia trying to make a pissed off German pronounce words?

He looked down once he felt the Russian nuzzle his chest a bit.

"Hey, stop that!" He pushed him away, his ears a tint of pink.

Russia pulled away with a smile. "I'm sorry. Your'e just really warm."

Germany waved it off. "So what do you want?" He asked hastily.

_"Druzhba."  
(Friendship.)_

_"Drujva."_

_"Tovarishch"  
(Comrade.)_

_"To-tovahruschji." _

Russia giggled, making Germany's ears flare.

"Stop laughing at me!" He spoke curtly.

Russia calmed down a bit, saying another word.

_"Smushcheniye."  
(Embarrassment.)_

Germany furrowed his brows, having no idea how to reply.

_"Sch-Schmoshchehnieya." _

"That's not even what it sounded like!" Russia laughed.

Before the ticked off and brutally embarrassed German could respond, he said another word.

"_Pechka."  
(Oven.)_

_"Peschjuga." _

Russia laughed even harder. It sounded like a little fit of girlish giggles.

Germany growled.

"Fine. Pronounce this; _Ich verachte Sie Ihr Land." _

_"E-Eck veerahck-ckter Sier Ehr Ll-Ll-...a-anschki."_

Germany raised a brow. "Seriously?"

Russia glared at him lazily.

"_YA lyublyu tebya."_

_"JA loblo tabja." _

Russia's face turned into that of surprise and happiness.

"Aw, I thought you'd never say that to me!" He chimed gleefully and wrapped his arms around the unsuspecting German.

"Even if your Russian is deathly terrible and it makes me want to vomit until I dispose of my internal organs, that's so sweet!"

Germany furrowed his eyebrows. "Vayt, vhaht ded Ich jousht shay- ACK!" He stopped himself before pronouncing an entire English sentence awfully wrong.

"What did I just say?!"

Russia giggled. "You said you loved me."

"No I did not!" Germany scowled.

"You really did!"

"You tricked me! _Russkyi ublyudok!" _

Russia eyed him curiously.

"Wait, how did you pronounce that perfectly? I thought you had no idea how to speak Russian."

Instead of Germany's ears burning a dark crimson, the blush crept across his face.

"Wh-what? I- I didn't, I- y- _Ich habe nichts zu sagen!_

"You can speak Russian!" Russia seemed so happy and surprised.

Before Germany could do anything, he typically pounced on him and embraced him to death.

"Get off of me!"

"Did you really care about me that much that you learned my own language?"

_"Nyet! _I mean, _n__ikogda! _Err, _nein!" _

The two were unaware of the dolls hardly noticeable movements. Their eyes seemed to glow in a pattern.

They didn't like this scenario one bit.

* * *

**A/N: This was short. **

**Sheetey. Do I have to translate everything they said? **

**Everyone; Yes, Kitty. **

**Me: FUCK!**

**Ich habe nichts zu sagen!: I have nothing to say! (German)**

**Nikogda!: Never! (Russian)**

**Russkyi ublyudok!: Russian bastard! (Russian)**

**Everything else is self-explanatory. I was just overreacting.  
**

**Chapter fourteen soon. **


	14. Chapter 14: Sensitive Spot

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: Did you know that I based this fanfiction off of a song from an RPG horror game called the Witch's House? **

**There's a music box in one of the maps, that plays a melody called "Spool of Thread". **

**There's even a Youtuber called Autumn, I believe. She made her own cover of it that uses the words, "she hangs on a spool of thread.". **

**I have a feeling that the song alone fits this fanfiction a little well. **

* * *

The dolls weren't much of anything important. They were just some kind of creepy spawn that had appeared to them randomly.

Germany couldn't help but wonder about the German cross necklace on the so-called doll named "Lutz".

Was it just for decoration? Was it saying the doll was made in 1301? No. It couldn't have been made that late. It looked new. Maybe it were for decoration. Yet if Russia didn't know anything about this doll, then why was it here in the house with them?

Russia was humming a soft tune to himself. It seemed to go like; _doo-doo, do-do-do-do-do. Doo-doo, doo-doo._ It was quiet and sounded eerie and sad.

Russia was staring at his little doll with boredom, lying back on the bed. He coughed and choked a few times, but fell silent.

He eventually broke the silence;

"Germany," He began softly.

Germany looked over his shoulder to see him. _"Ja?" _

"Is what you said about me how you really felt? Do you really think I am a disgrace?"

Germany shook his head. "I guess that I was just a bit messed up in the head, is all."

"Like you said I was," Russia commented quietly, hoping Germany didn't hear.

Yet he did, and he looked away and sighed.

After a few minutes, everything was silent, and everything was oddly too quiet.

"Russia, is there any-" He turned to realize the Russian had fallen asleep with the brunette doll in his arms.

He didn't look too happy to be sleeping. Most of the time during meetings, he'd noticed that Russia fell asleep sometimes. Every time he slept, he had a smile across his face. He'd even fallen against the German's shoulder and fell asleep on accident.

Russia had all kinds of soft spots that he'd learned about over the years. He somehow gets rather sleepy, much like Greece. He also doesn't like anyone that's bigger or taller than him.

He sat beside him, watching his expression as if waiting for some kind of change. He looked at the scratch on Russia's neck. It wasn't necessarily a deep cut, or a long cut. Why did Russia overreact to it?

He unconsciously touched the small dried scratch. Russia jolted a bit in his sleep, furrowing his brows as he nuzzled his scarf.

Bewildered, he rubbed it. Russia squirmed and tried to wriggle away. He even tried to bite him like an angry puppy, which he had accomplished.

What was wrong with him? Was there something off about his neck?

Curious, he rubbed it even harder and ignored Russia's attempts to get away. Russia made small whimpers and whines and writhed around, trying to push away Germany's hand feebly.

Germany noticed that his face was burning a bright red. Was he hurting him?

He pinched the skin of his neck, earning a quiet moan in response. It was too quiet to hear if it was out of pain or pleasure.

After he stopped for a couple of seconds, he was breathing heavily and deeply.

He was starting to get more curious by the minute. Why was he reacting like this?!

He didn't realize at all that he'd leaned forward, placing his lips on the Russian's neck. He unconsciously began to lick the pale skin, sucking on it even.

Russia let out a loud gasp like moan. It sounded almost like a shriek. His violet eyes flew open and he began to thrash around furiously.

"Stop! Stop it! Get off of me! P-pleeaaase!"

Germany froze up. What was so sensitive about his neck?

"Stop!" He began to chant it over and over again.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

As he pulled away, he accidentally bit down on the Russian's neck. Which is something he really shouldn't have down.

He arched his back, letting out a surprised squeak.

"Germany!"

He fell back to the bed and breathed heavily, staring half lidded at the ceiling.

"Russia? What the hell was that? Are you alright?"

He looked so nervous, his entire face crimson. He rolled to his side to face away from Germany.

"_D-da. _I... I'm f-fine..."

He pulled his scarf over his neck to hide it. Was he really OK?

"Russia, was I hurting you? What did I do?" He asked frequently.

"N-no. You didn't hurt me, it's fine!" He had a happy tune in his voice, though it was obvious he was upset.

"Then what did I do?" Germany wondered aloud.

Russia turned over to look at him, a soft smile across his face as he held the small brunette doll in his arms.

"Do you know how Italy has a curl?" He asked.

...

After explaining everything to him, Germany let out a shriek of horror which literally shook the whole house.

* * *

**A/N: **

**"A-nata no kotto. **

**Mitte iru. **

**Kawaiisou, desu heya naka te. **

**otomotachi ne? **

_**Ne?"**_

**Hue.**

**HUE HUE HUE. **

**HUEEEEEE -Shot- **

**Curiosity is a terrible thing to be cursed with. ;w;**

**Chapter fifteen? Is it fifteen? Chapter fifteen soon. **


	15. Chapter 15: Growing Problem

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: -Watches seventy-three episodes of Happy Tree Friends- **

**-Plays OFF, Witch's House, Ib, Misao, and Mad Father- **

**-Reads terribly written scary creepypastas- **

**I now have the most scariest, disturbing mind ever on this website. **

**Muahahaha, MUAHAHAHAH. **

**AAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA! -Turns into evil Flippy-**

**I'm going through the life decision of putting smut in this story. Should I put smut? I dunno. This chapter's really dirty, though. Be warned. **

* * *

Germany sighed as he heard the sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. Russia was vomiting, since the fact that he was indescribably disgusted by Germany touching his neck.

Germany, on the other hand, wasn't so disgusted. Russia's neck was so soft, he felt as though he wanted to touch it again. He felt heat creep across his face. What was wrong with him? Why was he so perverted? He unconsciously rubbed his hand on his thigh. He remembered how Russia's face was a bright red. He looked so... cute. He felt his pants tighten around his thighs, making the blush on his cheeks darken.

Of course he was disgusted by the fact of how he felt. He even felt as though he wanted to puke, yet there was just something that made him adore the Russian so much. What was wrong with him? He'd never felt so sick of himself in his life!

"Germany? Are you feeling alright?"

He looked up to see Russia stare at him uncertainly. His hair was ruffled, a bit of dark circles under his violet eyes.

"Ah?" Germany said in bewilderment.

He noticed how short the shorts that Russia was wearing were. They rode up a bit, showing his now slender thighs. The tank top was baggy, showing his slim figure.

At first he didn't remember the growing problem in between his legs, which grew even more by the sight of the Russian. Afterwards, his face flared up like a pan burning on the burners of an oven.

"Oh!" He quickly took one of the pillows on the bed and put it over his lap.

_"Ja. Ja, _I'm fine."

"Why did you put that pillow right there? Does it hurt?"

Germany's face grew even more darker, pushing the fluff filled bed ornament down further.

"N-y-... yes. Yes it does. Very much."

Russia sat beside him, smiling. "Do you want me to help you if it hurts so much?"

"Wh-wha-?! _Nein!" _Germany faced away. It felt like there was an inferno that was burning his face like wood.

"Why is your face red? Are you getting sick?" He softly gripped Germany's burning cheeks in his hands, forcing his face to stay still. Germany leaned away, making Russia have to lean forward.

After a few moments, Germany was laying back on the bed with Russia on top of him, sitting on the pillow on his thighs.

"Is this what's making you so upset?" He asked and pointed to the pillow. He began to pull it away, moving back a bit.

Germany vigorously shook his head.

"N-no! No, no no no no! Stop that!"

He sat up quickly, swinging his arm back and slapping Russia across the cheek.

"Ow!" Russia fell back, rubbing his cheek.

He looked to Germany, confused.

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to help you." He said softly, smiling in defeat.

Germany looked away, his cheeks still flaring.

"_Ja, _Whatever. You didn't do a very good job at- _Eh?!" _

Russia suddenly fell forward, his face only half a centimeter from Germany's. He had a look of determination, unknowingly putting force on the pillow on Germany's erection with his hands.

"Russia!? What are you-?!"

Without any warning, Russia leaned forward and planted a kiss on Germany's lips.

* * *

**A/N: ORMAHGUD. **

**THE SHOCK. **

**HORROR. **

**INSANITY. **

**MADNESS. **

**ERRREUEUEUUERRRR. **

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN SOON. **


	16. Chapter 16: Surprise to You

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

* * *

Germany had no idea how to react.

He stared into the distance in horror and confusion.

Russia. Was. Kissing. Him.

Though after two seconds he pulled back and smiled.

"There. I told you I would get that kiss once!" He chimed happily.

Germany looked at him in bewilderment. "Wh-what?"

"Remember when I tried to greet you in Russian and you pushed my face away?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

Germany thought for a moment, nodding stiffly.

"I got payback." He giggled childishly.

Maybe Russia _was _truly too innocent to understand the concept of the things that happened in Germany's head.

He stood up and turned to walk out of the room, holding his little doll. He coughed as he unknowingly shut the door behind him.

Germany sighed, looking to the side. Maybe he should take this chance to stop himself from "growing".

...

Russia sat on the sofa, looking at the doll in his lap.

It really was kind of cute. It had big button eyes that were red. They shimmered in the light.

He lifted its stubby hands in between his index finger and thumb. It wasn't so stiff, so it bobbed around lifelessly. Its little legs danced dizzily, as its head swayed side to side.

He giggled, bringing the doll to his face and nuzzling its fabricated cheek. It was so adorable!

He didn't hear the shuffling of footsteps behind him. The drawing of a knife.

As he was too preoccupied with the little doll, he didn't notice the man standing behind him. A buff man, whose light hair fell over his eyes and touched his nose.

He stared back at the doll. Its head seemed to look up uncertainly, gazing at something behind him in terror though it held no expression.

He moved it a bit to notice that its head wouldn't move. It stayed trained on the area it was staring at.

A little nervous, he turned the doll to the side. Its head still stared behind him.

What was it looking at?

He turned it all the way around. The stuffing in its neck ripped from having its head turned away too much, and its body disconnected from its head.

The head bounced to the floor like a little ball. When it stopped, it seemed to continue staring behind him.

Paranoia stricken, Russia turned to the side only to have thick arms drape around his neck and a cold knife at his throat.

"Aren't you enough for this world? Piece o' scum," The man asked in a deep booming voice, and what appeared to be a Germanic Brooklyn accent.

Russia thrashed around. Who was this person? He couldn't turn to see him.

Who was this person?! Why were they here?!

There was also another, important question that sent chills down Russia's spine;

How did they get into the house?

* * *

**A/N: OMAIGAD. **

**I'LL KEEP YOU ALL IN SUSPENSE.**

**You probably all know who it is, but I'll say no more. **

**Chapter seventeen soon. **


	17. Chapter 17: Meet Lutz Beilschmidt

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: I think you'll find this character much more likable and cartoon-y like than any other evil person I've written about. uwu I tried to make him goofy and stupid. **

* * *

Russia's mind was racing. He didn't have any time to think.

"G-Germany!? What are y- why- wai- h-?!"

He heard a chuckle behind him. He realized this man's voice was too high to be Germany.

"Oh yeah, sure. Why do ye' ask?" He asked with a chuckle. It sounded like he was from Brooklyn, so he pronounced "why do you ask" as "Vhy do yeh e-ahsk". And sure as "shoo-ah".

It sounded pretty difficult to understand such a weird way of language. He had two accents at the same time.

"Who are you? Unhand me!" He squirmed around.

"'Unhand you'?" The German asked, seemingly confused by the request.

"I'm sorry, but we're not in the nineties anymore. We don't use the word 'unhand'." He snickered at his pathetic joke.

Annoyed, horrified and confused, Russia threw his head back and smacked the man dead in the face.

"Ow! Hey!"

Russia took the chance to jump off the side of the sofa to see his attacker.

. . .

He resembled Germany's doll.

He had dark, messy hair which he tucked under his World War II field cap, a scar underneath his left violet eye. He wore a jacket which he strung over his shoulders like it was unimportant. There were thick dark bags under his eyes. It looked as if he hadn't slept in seven weeks.

In some way, he resembled both Germany and Prussia mashed together.

He had a rather snooty attitude, for one. And an awkward accent.

"All right, that's enough of that." He spoke hastily, the weird Brooklyn accent disappearing from his voice and replaced with a high, yet low hyena tone.

He looked over to Russia, the two of them staring at each other.

The man looked around, confused.

"What are you looking at? What's happening, you having a stroke or some shit?"

"You just tried to slit my throat, so. Yes. I guess. I have no clue." Russia smiled.

He eyed the German. He was rather suspicious.

"Who are you?" Russia asked him finally.

"How did you get here?"

The man's stern expression suddenly changed to a shark-toothed grin.

He chuckled loudly, walking towards him and throwing an arm over Russia's slender shoulder. He rubbed his knuckles into the top of the Russian's head to give him a noogie, which Russia learned that he despised.

"How wouldn't you know me, ki-" He stopped before calling him "kid", eyeing his face with realization that Russia _literally_ had the face of a kid. He even gazed down at his short size with violet eyes the size of plates.

"-man." He corrected.

He backed away to see the Russian. "Holy fuck. Are you a giraffe or something?" He stared at the Russian's tall posture. He only came up to the Russian's nose.

Russia shined a fake smile. "I believe you haven't told me your name, nor how you broke in here.

The man snickered a bit, crossing his arms.

"Oh, y'know. My name's Fappuccino Douchelorez. I came here, I believe from Narnia."

Russia raised an eyebrow. _"'Fappuccino Douchelorez'?" _

The man burst with laughter.

"You just said 'Fappuccino'! Oh, that's funny as _hell!" _

"I do not understand the reference." Russia spoke as the German continued to laugh his ass off.

He immediately stopped laughing and looked up at him, still grinning stupidly.

"'Fappuccino'. 'Fap'. Get it?"

Russia thought for a moment, searching through his reminiscence yet finding nothing at all that related to the odd word.

"What does that mean?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side.

The man's smile faltered a bit, yet he still maintained it.

"It's the sound you make when you masturbate. Get it?"

Russia blinked in bewilderment. He had no idea what this man was talking about.

He swatted his arm as an effort to metaphorically throw away the subject. "Ah, fuck it."

Russia frowned. Looking back, he took notice of a vase on the end table. Moving it over, he spotted a knife. It was the man's knife that he's dropped.

As the man was looking around the room, he aimed the knife to his throat.

The color almost seemed to drain from the German's already pale face. _"Eh?!"_

He put his arms up to his chest in an effort to defend himself from the lethal ended weapon.

"What's your name?" Russia demanded, keeping a stern tone.

"Can you not take a joke or something, you square?" He smiled a bit, chuckling.

"Tell me!"

"Fine. It's Beilschmidt,"

He suddenly threw his coat flap back, slipping his arm under it and pulling out a magnum which he aimed at Russia and dramatically jumped back.

_"Lutz Beilschmidt." _He finished, making another reference that the Russian didn't understand.

The two stared at each other, holding their weapons towards one another.

After a few moments, Lutz dropped his gun.

"Aw hell, I can't shoot you." He grinned sheepishly. Either in sarcasm or truthfulness, Russia couldn't tell.

Lutz, stepped forward, splaying another arm around Russia's shoulder.

"You're about as psychotic as me. Though I haven't seen it, yet."

Russia didn't like how this man felt so unfamiliar. He also didn't like how he had a dark aura.

"Where's the other dude?" Lutz looked around the room.

Russia pointed to a door. "I don't know what he's doing." He confessed.

Lutz thought for a minute. "I dunno either. Probably 'fapping' or some shit."

Before Russia could question anything about the statement, Lutz dragged him away.

"Why don't we learn more about each other, kiddo?" He grinned as he sat both he and Russia on the sofa.

Russia sank back a bit. He knew he wouldn't like this at all.

* * *

**A/N: My mind. **

**Do you like how I portrayed Lutz? How I made him immature and silly? I do. :D **

**"Fappuccino Douchelorez". **

**That's the greatest name I've ever come up with. **

**Chapter eighteen soon. **


	18. Chapter 18: Nothing of Your Concern

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: I was watching Supernatural. It was the episode, "Everybody Hates Hitler".**

**So like, it showed the Nazi forces doing all this Nazi stuff, then all of a sudden, this big guy comes in and starts killing all of them. He wore this weird old timey outfit. Like lederhosen or something. The first thing that came to my mind was "OMAIGAD IT'S SHREK!" **

**But nooo. it relleh wasn't.**

**SHREK HAS DECIDED TO FIGHT THE NAZIS. :O **

* * *

Lutz was a very different person than Russia had ever met.

He had no idea if he liked him or not, but he was guessing that the idea of liking him was a hundred percent impossible.

He had his legs up lazily on the sofa's seat. Russia had to stay all the way on the other end to just sit down.

"So, you're a second personality of Germany?" Russia eyed him in befuddlement.

"Well, I'd say that I _am _Germany, but in this place it'd just be confusing."

"You're rather, er. _Lethargic_ to be Germany."

Lutz fixed his legs so they were in Russia's lap. The Russian edged away, uncomfortable.

"Is that your fancy word for saying I'm stupid?" He frowned.

Russia shook his head, blushing. Why did he feel so nervous and embarrassed around him? He felt as if the German was more niftier in some way than him.

But Lutz seemed to be a total idiot!

"Wait, so who are you again?" Lutz questioned.

"Russia."

Lutz nodded. He was confused to see Russia look like _this. _He thought since this was an alternative universe, he'd be much more creepy and scary, unlike how _his _Russia he believed was. Though, he was used to everyone's creepy and funky shit in his world.

But _this. _This Russia looked too cute to be scary. He looked as innocent as a kitten. Maybe more innocent than that.

_"You're _Russia?" He narrowed his eyes.

_"Da." _He smiled.

Lutz stared at him. "You sure you ain't mistakin' yourself for someone else, kiddo?"

Russia lowered his brows.

"No." He stated in a stern tone.

"M'kay."

. . .

"Can you get your feet off of me, please?"

Lutz eyed him in confusion.

"But your as comfortable as hell." Once he said that, he shifted his position to lay with his back to Russia, leaning back so his head rested on Russia's thighs.

His narrowed violet eyes stared back up at him. The one with the scar underneath was more narrowed than the other.

Russia, feeling though he was staring at him for too long, turned his head to the side to look away at the fireplace. He really wished Germany was here. He didn't like this guy. He seemed to almost purr in his lap like a cat.

He couldn't just walk up to the door and ask Germany to come out. He felt a bit nervous for what Lutz would do. He decided to make an excuse.

"I have to go to the bathroom," He spoke quietly, absentmindedly pushing Lutz's head away hard. The unsuspecting German rolled on his side and funnily fell onto his back on the floor.

Once he walked to the hall, he turned to the door Germany was in. Without hesitating, he opened the door.

"Germany?" He asked softly. Too soft for the German to hear.

Germany had his back to him, yet Russia could tell that he was cutting something from the movement of his arms.

"Germany?" He asked louder.

Germany flinched and looked over his shoulder.

"H-huh? What?" He seemed so shocked and nervous.

He pulled his jacket from the chair and hurriedly put it on, covering his arms quickly.

"_Ja? _What do you want?" He questioned curtly.

Russia tilted his head to the side. Of course, he wanted to tell him about Lutz, but now he was curious about what happened.

"What are you doing?" He asked, walking closer to him.

Germany sighed and looked away. "Nothing. Why?"

Russia eyed his face. He noticed a thin stream of red dribble from the German's lip. Did he cut his mouth?

"Is your mouth bleeding?" Russia smiled in disapproval.

Germany raised an eyebrow. "No. I'm not bleeding at all." He spoke, obviously a bit nervous.

He's lying, Russia thought. And he's terrible at it.

He looked down. Another stream of red was flowing from his arm. What's up with this guy?

He took the German's arm and yanked the sleeve up, earning a startled cry from Germany.

"What are you doing?" He asked, outraged.

"Stop that! Leave me alone!"

There was a slightly deep cut in Germany's arm. Why was he cutting himself? He noticed a small chunk of it was pulled out.

He looked up, seeing the red blood still drip from his chin.

Only one question lingered in Russia's mind.

"Germany," He began sternly yet shakily.

"were you eating yourself?"

* * *

**A/N: Oh shet. Germany's a cannibal. **

**FUCK. GET OUT THE MILLIPEDES. Wait what? **

**I must go watch Happy Tree Friends. **

**-Goes to a party with Lumpy and Flippy- **

**WOO. **

**Chaptre nineteenth in seventy-three years. **


	19. Chapter 19: Stop Eating Skin

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

* * *

"_Wh-what?!" _Germany shrieked in anger and horror.

"_Nein! _I was _not!" _

Russia eyed him. He felt as though he wasn't telling the truth at all.

"Then what were you doing in here?" He asked curiously.

Germany looked down, his face reddening. He was more redder than the ripest cherry.

"I. . . was. . . You. . . " He trailed off.

Finally, he sighed.

"Fine. You're right," He spoke in defeat.

Russia stared at him surprised. "Why were-"

"It was. . . I just. . . I. . ." He cut him off, trailing his sentence away.

He suddenly brought his hands to his face, slapping them against it to hide the redness of his cheeks, which easily showed because of the dark red in his ears.

"Gah! I wasn't fucking doing anything! Get the hell out of here! Smug communistic fuck!" He screeched in a deep, hoarse and muffled voice.

He seemed to be acting rather childish. It was like when a mother finds her son doing something he shouldn't.

He kept his hands to his flaring face, as if to hold back a burning hell of ungodly words. He growled in frustration.

"Get out! Just _leave!"_

Russia stayed silently. He didn't know what to say that wouldn't anger the German any more.

Germany moved his hand a bit to peek at him through his fingers. Fury was the only expression he held.

"Get. Out!" He shrieked again, literally swinging a hand back and slapping the back of his hand to the Russian's cheek.

"Ow!" Russia cried, leaning back.

The spot slowly faded into red. Russia closed his eyes. He never knew being slapped backwards hurt so terribly. It burned like the flames from hell.

He realized Germany was going to hit him again. Before he could, and having nothing else to do, he fell forward and threw his arms around the German. Both to try and hide from his hits and to show him affection.

"I-it's OK! I understand!" He spoke softly with a smile though Germany couldn't see since Russia had his chin against his shoulder.

Germany stayed still, only breathing heavily from anger. He calmed down a bit, but then snapped and tried to wriggle away.

"Let go of me! Get your fucking hands off of me! _Now!"_

"Germany, I swear. I'll never tell anyone," Russia smiled.

Germany didn't seem to hear him. He still tried to pry him off like he were a fierce cat.

"Get off! Filthy swine!"

Russia continued to squeeze him, trying to make him stop. After a few moments, he stopped fidgeting and stayed still.

Unusually still . . .

Russia looked over his shoulder to see that he was literally choking the German by technically shoving his arm into his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Russia smiled, letting go. Germany gasped for breath, reluctant to place his arms on the Russian.

"S-so. Do you forgive me?" Russia stared at him with big upset, sparkling violet eyes.

Germany looked at him.

"Forgive you for what?" He asked.

"Choking me?"

Russia realized why he'd said that. He forgot that he entered the room and that didn't make any sense for it to be something to apologize for.

Russia smiled and figured that he was still his usual self and he wasn't indescribably furious.

. . .

Lutz watched in disbelief. He definitely knew Alex wouldn't like this.

Whatever, he thought. That jackass ain't the boss of me!

He grinned.

Then to his surprise, he vanished from thin air without intending to.

* * *

**A/N: You shouldn't be THAT angry if a friend walks in on you eating your own skin, right? **

**Yeah. . . probably. . .**

**Chaptre 20 soon. **


	20. Chapter 20: Deal

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

* * *

In a sudden burst of crimson smoke, a sudden figure appeared mysteriously in the dark room.

"Eh?" Lutz looked around. Why the hell was he back here? His task wasn't done yet!

"You _do _realized how much of a complete fucking moron you are, right?" He heard a deep voice rasp in front of him

He looked up to see Alex. The Russian looked _pissed. _

"Why am I back here, you sass gargler?"

"You weren't paying attention on what you were supposed to do." Alex grimaced.

"What do you mean? I totally was!"

"You were distracted by Ivan and had a conversation with him instead. I told you to kill him."

"Why do I have to specifically kill him and not everyone else?"

Alex lifted up his shovel.

"Because that bastard is dying!" He interred.

"If he dies of a cold, then I'll get an illness and even eventually die, too. But if he's killed by a second personality, I'll stay as myself."

Lutz narrowed his eyes. "And if we let that Germany dude nurse him back to his regular state?" He asked, dragging the question on.

In response, Alex swung the shovel at him, missing by a thread.

"Then _I'll _be fucking pissed that he's still alive!"

Lutz stared at the edge of the shovel that nearly sliced his head in two, his face drained of color.

He pushed it away with his finger. "So, what ideas do you want me to do? I can't just pop in there and say, 'Oh hey, how's life, Russia-bro', and then '_KERBLAM'. _Whack him in the head like a mentally disabled chicken."

Alex thought for a moment. "Then why don't you control Germany's body again?" He asked.

Lutz froze up. He didn't want to spend all his time trying to kill a useless Russian from another dimension!

"What if I don't want to? Besides, get Akbar to do it. He'd be more of a replacement for that dumb ass German's consciousness than me."

"Akbar already said no, fuck-face. Besides, he'd be too distracted by how Ivan looks. You know how unusually tenderhearted he can be around cute looking things. Not that I'm saying he's cute, but he has the face of a child, and Akbar would be too timid to do it."

"So you chose me?"

"_Da! _You imbecile!"

"OK, jeez. Send me back." He sighed.

"I swear. You _have _to kill him. If you don't, I won't be the only one that's dying." Alex inquired, tapping the metal head of his shovel on the carpeted floor of the meeting room.

"Yeah, yeah. Just do the . . . snappy thing." Lutz spoke, attempting to snap his fingers but failing horribly at it since he'd never known how.

Alex only had to snap his fingers, and Lutz vanished again.

* * *

**A/N: Goddamn 2P!'s. **

**I am aware my chapters have gotten UNBEARABLY shorter. I'm sorry. **

**Chapter twenty-one soon. **


	21. Chapter 21: I AM You, Now

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: I made the start to this chapter overly dramatic with the music box thing. I'm sorry, I was bored. The theme is from the Witch's House.**

* * *

_Music box cranking backwards to start:_

_"Spool of Thread" begins. __  
_

* * *

Germany eyed the floor. The doors were still jammed. It was still a blizzard outside. He checked his watch.

One at night.

This will be _lovely, _he thought sarcastically. Though the snow wouldn't stop, he could see the blissful black night. The house was lit up with a few candles that were on the walls of the corridors and the rooms. There was only one on the short glass coffee table in front of both him and Russia, melting away from it's tall candelabra. One single candle in a several candle holder.

It swayed vigorously, almost as if it were ricocheting down a narrow hall.

"Do you want me to show you around this house?' Russia asked softly, suddenly picking the candelabra up from the table.

"At night?" Germany raised an eyebrow,

"_Da. _It brings in the peacefulness, does it not?" Russia smiled.

"I love the night." He commented as he gazed towards the dark window. Stars twinkled in the night, unseen from the monstrous weather.

"Fine." Germany said under his breath as he got up.

Once he did, he stopped and froze. Why did it feel like something was crawling in his head. Before he could think about anything, a shock coursed through his brain, and and he wasn't in control of his body at all. He could still use his senses, but he couldn't move or talk. What was happening? Why was he moving, but he wasn't controlling it?

_Wha-? What are you . . ._

He could hear himself talk. Though it was only in his mind.

_**Yolo, bro. I'm**** stealing**** your bod to kill this guy. Swag. See ya'z. ** _A high voice echoed back.

_WHAT?! Who are you?! Stop this, you fucking cunt! _

_. . ._

Lutz tuned Germany's consciousness out. What he was saying was _not _important to him! What _was _important, was killing this dude.

He scanned the room, letting Russia step ahead of him to lead him down the hall. All he needed was a weapon.

They quietly walked through the corridor, though there was no one to wake in this empty mansion.

**_This_ _place_ _is_ _cozy,_** Lutz thought as he admired the dark halls.

_Yeah, says the ass-wipe who can't kill a Russian without a 'weapon'. _Germany growled in his mind.

**_Shut up! You ass haggler. _**

It was unusual sharing a brain with another person.

As he was having an argument with both his and Germany's conscience, he looked to the side and spotted an ax affixed to the right side of a narrow hall. They hadn't reached any doors yet. How convenient it is to find a welly placed ax!

He reached out in the slightest and as they passed, slipped his hand under the handle and yanked it from its binds.

Russia didn't notice. He held his candelabra. Though the halls were lit up, the rooms weren't. He stared straight forward, a childish smile on his face, which held an even more younger and childlike face in the flickering glow of the candle.

The candle's flame flicked from the movement as if to warn him. Russia didn't notice at all.

Lutz grinned. This guy'd be so easy to kill!

He slowed his pace, stretching his arms out and letting out a fake yawn.

As his arm were stretched, he used both of his hands to firmly grip the wooden handle of the ax.

Continuing to walk, he grinned even wider as he swung his arm back. A sharp, shark-toothed grin that seemed to glint in the candles' lights.

He absolutely _loved _killing cute little innocent things. He'd love killing Russia, as well.

His eyes almost seemed to glow in a whitish, purple hue. His excitement and pleasure grew even more as he finally swung it forward to strike the unknowing Russian. His head'd split like a watermelon.

He heard a sudden cry emit from the Russian, then a loud satisfying crack.

He chuckled sickly, expecting to feel the warm blood splatter onto his face.

. . . ?

It never came.

He opened his eyes which he didn't remember closing, bewildered.

He'd struck the edge of a wall.

He looked around. Where did Russia go? Did he vanish from midair like a witch? Or a vampire or some shit?

_You truly are a moron. Look down you fucking diphthong. _Germany echoed through his mind.

He looked down. Russia had dropped his candelabra on the floor.

**_Why the hell isn't it engulfing in flames then? _**

_Because he stopped it. You should really pay more attention to reality and stop thinking about these sickening things. _

**_You know you love it you hypocrite. I can see your mind, too, y'know, asshole. _**

Germany's voice faded to silence. It was true. Germany literally thought of pretty much _sickening _things. Ugh.

Russia sighed. "Hey Germany, could you get me a towel?" He asked softly.

He was just about to say; _'Get one yourself, you communist!', _but stopped. Dammit, he couldn't go against this dude.

He walked to the end of the hall and opened a closet-like drawer, lazily yanking out a white fluffy towel.

Before he handed it to him, he had an idea.

Creeping up behind Russia quietly, he folded the cloth horizontally and raised it so he could have a could chance of suffocating him with it.

_You're not going to kill him, you know. _

**_Shut the fuck up, McGruff! _**

_How do I in any way resemble that godawful American-cartoon dog? _

**_Because your an asshole. _**

_Fuck you. _

"_Spasibo, _Germany." Russia smiled and took the towel before Lutz could strangle him.

**_DAMMIT!_**

_He's a quick thinker, too. Dummkopf. _

**_Go in the farthest corner of my mind. Just go nest there, you German Hulk Hogan. _**

_Nice comeback. _

Russia stared to wipe away the burning wax from the carpet. He looked at the towel, seeing as how the wax seemed to boil its fur away.

_**Ha! My chance!** _Lutz extended his arm to push the Russian's face into the burning wax, yet failed by aiming his arm at a different angle and falling flat on his face on the floor from the extra strength he put in his arm.

Russia looked over at him with a look of befuddlement. "Germany, are you feeling alright, friend?"

_Please stop. You're embarrassing me in front of him. _

**_Why? Is he your girlfriend or some shit? _**

_You don't call boys girlfriends, you retardation-infected pig. And no. _

Lutz inwardly rolled his eyes. This guy's just a complete smart-ass.

_I heard that, cow-fucker. _

**_Whatever, Hasselhoff. _**

Lutz growled in frustration. _"Ja. _I'm fine." He reenacted Germany's voice, though he already sounded like him and made his voice sound even deeper.

_Just stop. Please. Are you trying to be the Incredible Hulk or whatever the hell they call that thing? _

**_Shut. Up. _**

Russia giggled softly, holding a hand to his pale lips to hide his smile.

Lutz looked up at him. He felt as though he didn't feel like killing this guy . . .

But he had to. He didn't want to die himself.

"Come on. Get up, silly!" He picked up Lutz's arm and tried to pull him up.

Lutz yanked his arm back and stood up. He dusted himself off, and followed Russia through the corridor.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**A/N: Oh Lutz. You dunderhead. :3 **

**So many references. :o **

**I found out about McGruff from the Sam & Max cartoon. I believe it was the McGuffin factory one. **

**Chapter twenty-two soon. **


	22. Chapter 22: Attempts It Takes to Kill

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

* * *

Lutz was not having a good time.

He'd tried to kill this fucker ten total times!

He tried to take the end of his scarf and yank it back to choke him. Instead, the scarf flew from his shoulders.

He also tried to take one of the candle holders from the wall and throw it at him. Instead, he couldn't take the candle out of its holder and Russia turned around and took the candle as an offering.

He even tried to take a gun to try and shoot the Russian in the skull. No bullets.

Tried to smash his face in the side of a door, instead he smacked Russia in the back of the head and didn't do anything.

Tried to break a bottle over his head that he'd filled with gasoline, the bottle flung behind him and broke from the force he'd swung it up with. Luckily it didn't hit a candle.

Tried to shove him dead into a weak and cracked mirror. The mirror didn't break.

He even tried placed his knife on the floor and tried to trip the Russian to make it go through his skull once he hit the floor. Russia only stumbled a bit and Lutz ended up accidentally stepping on the knife and cutting a bit of his foot.

Why the fuck was he invincible?!

_Because you're a jackass. _

Lutz decided that ignoring Germany's smart remarks was the best he could do.

"Germany, why were you hurting me a lot? Are you still mad at me?" Russia asked him softly as he rubbed his throbbing head. Lutz had at least smacked and punched him in the head two or three times.

Lutz looked at him, and shook his head, turning back.

Russia seemed to slow down, unknowingly at best. He coughed, bringing a hand to his mouth and wincing every time he let out a strangled hack.

He continued to cough, placing a hand on the wall for support so he wouldn't fall down. He felt so woozy and weak. His vision seemed to blur a bit.

"A-ah, G-Germa-any, wait a mo-" He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Germany.

. . .

In a flash of his vision, he saw a man that didn't seem to look like his friend. He wore a dark jacket slung over his shoulders, as well as a field cap. A scar was underneath his left violet eye. But then he changed back to his regular state.

Lutz raised an eyebrow. "What? What are you looking at?"

Russia shook his head, smiling.

"I'm sorry. I-I'm just seeing things." He confessed.

He walked a few more wobbling steps, before falling forward.

On impulse, Lutz gripped him to keep him up.

_No . . . _He heard Germany's voice.

_No please Gott, no. Don't do anything to him, you sick bastard! _

**_I think that you've hurt him more than I will, bro. _**

Russia winced, letting out short shaky breaths.

"I can't breathe," He whispered.

Lutz felt a grin creep across his face. _**Finally, Jesus fucking Christ.**_

"Here," Lutz offered politely, draping an arm around the feeble Russian's shoulder. As he did, he made sure he was squishing him. he also pulled his scarf to make him choke. Luckily Germany's figure was taller than his, so he had a better reach of the Russian. Though Russia was still taller than him. Germany was also, how he didn't want to admit, stronger and really buff. Russia, right now, was skinny.

Russia whimpered, weakening by each moment.

_Stop you fucking Shwein! Stop! Nein! _

Lutz ignored him, grinning as he wrapped an arm around Russia's neck and tightened it. Russia was surprised from the motion, struggling and writhing around in pain as he couldn't breathe in any way.

He slammed the Russian into the wall. He fell limp and sunk to the floor.

Lutz bent down and felt for his pulse. Still alive. He smirked. Might as well beat the shit out of him, then.

Before he could strike him, a painful shock jolted through his spine.

"Wha-?! What the fuck?!" He stumbled back and slammed his head into a door.

He sank to the floor, wincing in pain.

Soon, he fell unconscious.

. . .

After a few moments, his eyes reopened again. They were a more lively blue than they had been before with a hue of purple.

He looked around a bit, spotting Russia's unconscious and slowly breathing body.

Poor guy, Germany thought, a bit solemnly. He leaned down and lifted the Russian up from the floor. He was so easy to hold now. So weak and thin. Once he woke up he might need to cook him more food again.

He made sure Lutz was gone. He wasn't saying anything. After all, the pain had knocked his conscience _un_conscious, if that was a thing.

He prodded a door open with his foot, walking in and placing the Russian on the bed not softly or roughly. He pulled over the blanket to the Russian's chin.

Germany felt a bit sleepy himself.

Without thinking clearly, he shut the bedroom door and climbed into the other end of the bed, taking off his green jacket and placing it on an end table.

He looked at his foot. There was a slight cut, but it wasn't bleeding. There were more scratches from when he'd stood on the glass.

He remembered the fight. How he'd beaten Russia without wanting to.

_Lutz _did it.

He made Germany try to kill him.

He looked over to the Russian. He's been through so much, and it's all my fault, he thought with a sigh.

He threw the covers over himself and turned towards Russia. He watched the Russian's face as he slept. He held a thoughtful expression; No smile, no frown, no angry face. Just a cute little expressionless one.

Why did he always think Russia as 'cute'? He definitely was not. In any way.

His eyes finally closed, though he was unaware that Russia had moved closer to him. A tiny smile spread across the Russian's face as he unconsciously nuzzled Germany's cheek. Germany in response furrowed his brows, but set his head back down, letting both of their foreheads rest against each other.

* * *

**A/N: AWWW!** **-Dead- **

**Chaptreeeeeeeeee twenty three soooonnnnnnnnnnnneneenene.**


	23. Chapter 23: Best Bros Forever

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: I've watched too much HTF. There's something wrong with me. **

**This might be too painful to read. I'm sorry. **

**THIS IS FUCKING SHREKTACULAR. **

**I got that from a Shrek meme. **

**These jokes are so Ogrerated. **

**:D **

* * *

_"No! What are you doing?! Germany, stop!" _

_Russia wriggled away from the German, his legs battered and too weak to stand on. _

_Germany didn't hear him. He stepped toward the helpless Russian, a lead faucet pipe in his hand. _

_Without hesitation, he slammed the end of the metal pipe into Russia's neck. He choked as crimson filled the faucet's pipe and dribbled out of the other end profusely. _

_Germany gripped the end and shoved it in farther, making Russia gargle in pain as blood spurted out like a fountain. Germany cracked a smile when the blood soaked him entirely. _

_Russia gasped in pain, though the pipe had been driven through his windpipe, resulting in more blood to spray out and no air to come in or out of his lungs. _

_Germany took the pipe out, having to shake it loose. Russia continued to writhe around, making painful whimpers and whines. _

_They weren't anywhere. _

_They were just in a plain white space. _

_Russia looked up as Germany held the pipe over his head. _

_"P-. . . please. . .Don't do this . . ." Russia pleaded in a tiny voice. Each time he spoke, blood spurted from his throat. His face was growing more pale than he was before. _

_"__I didn't-"_

_ He was cut off as Germany unwaveringly slammed the pipe into the top of his head. Now he was silenced forever, he thought with a grim smile. _

_Russia fell back, smashing his head in the nonexistent ground. He stared with terror filled eyes in the distance. He even twitched, hence he was still alive. He just couldn't respond to anything. _

_Blood pooled around him from the pipe that was punctured in his head, along with the hole in his throat. Brain matter flowed from the tip of the faucet's end like it were tap water. He finally stopped moving as he died of blood loss. His eyes dilated, his pupils growing larger as all he saw was darkness. His head drooped to the side to look away. Crimson dripped from his lips, his throat, his head, everywhere. _

_Germany only stared at him. Blood staining his face and body. The only expression he bared was a threatening and horrifying smile._

_"Proshchay, drug."_ _He spoke in silent Russian. _

_. . . _

His eyes opened to the sound of footsteps.

He was in a bed. Why was he in a bed? How did he get here in the first place?

The sun poured in through the curtained window. It looked so pretty in the room. He always loved it when it was sunny.

It hardly ever was in Russia.

He coughed a bit, holding his hands to his lips. He'd never had a cold before. But this one was terrible.

He actually wished that his sisters were here. He missed them. Even Belarus. Though she was psychotic and tried to kill him or marry him and she was sick and twisted, he loved her as a sister.

But they weren't allowed to be anywhere near him.

Now he felt as though he was going to die in this house of a terrible illness no one knows about.

If I die, my country is no more, he thought bitterly.

He turned to his side. Wasn't Germany here? If he was, where did he go?

He coughed more, burying his face in the comfort of the pillows on the bed.

It felt so relaxing to actually lay down. His muscles didn't hurt, his throat wasn't aching, his stomach wasn't lurching.

He smiled. What if his sickness had disappeared? What if he'd gotten better? Was that possible? Even with the terrible disease he had?

He thought about the dreams he'd recently had. Did they mean something? Was Lutz trying to corrupt his mind like an asshole? Probably. That guy _was_ an asshole.

Russia never swore in front of people. He didn't try to seem threatening. He even really wanted to have Italy as a friend. He still does, though. Italy was so nice and warm-hearted to others. He even was to Ukraine and Belarus. When Ukraine lost the button to her shirt, Italy found it for her, and even gave her a few buttons of his own that he'd claimed he 'found laying around', but in honesty, he stole them from Germany's old shirts. But he always swore when he was alone. Though, he hardly ever cursed, his voice sounded so odd pronouncing the words.

He smiled as he thought of harsh slurs to call other people. They may seem childish and stupid to others, but he giggled. They were funny.

Shit-lord. Ass-butt. Fuck-monkey. Butt-rapist. Duck-fucker. Mother-ducker. Fire-fruck. Ass-face. Butt-munch. Ass-dumpling.

He giggled at the last one. Why doesn't he just say these in public? Even _Italy _swore all the time! He calls Germany a brawny bastard, ass-hat, everything behind his back. Though it was behind the German's back. He didn't want Germany to know he called him names. He'd beat the shit out of him. Italy never means what he says. He just swears a lot when he's angry.

Russia sighed. Why was he so weak? He felt too nervous to even call _China _a name. He should just start cursing and yelling profanities at everyone and everything. Prussia said that once Germany spent five minutes straight screaming and cursing at a vase that he bumped into and dropped an empty glass platter. Germany was such an odd person. He always made everything perfect. He bet if he walked out there, everything would literally be sparkling clean.

The door opened quietly, though Russia could hear it. He smirked softly as he got the idea of calling Germany a name.

"What the hell do you fucking want, ass-wipe?" He spoke softly let loud enough for Germany to hear.

He heard the sound of Germany's footsteps come to a halt. Russia inwardly felt his heart beat faster. What if he made him mad? He closed his eyes tightly, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. Why did he do something so stupid?

He heard the sound of something being placed on the end table. What was he doing? What was he carrying in the first place?

He felt the end of the bed sink heavily as the German's strong burly physique crawled into it. Was he going to kill him? Beat him to death? Russia closed his eyes even tighter. His throat felt so dry and cramped as he held his breath from terror. He didn't know why he actually felt this scared of Germany. There had to be something wrong with him.

He felt the German above him, extending his arm back as if to punch him. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it coming. He gritted his teeth to stay quiet, literally horrified of the gruesome consequences.

"That's what I thought. Faker." He heard Germany say as he leaned back. He must've noticed how he curled into a ball and tried to shrink away in terror.

Russia slowly opened his eyes. Dammit, he felt so cheated!

"Asshole," Russia murmured.

"What was that?" Germany frowned tauntingly, glaring at him to repeat.

Russia looked back at him over his shoulder.

"Ass. Hole. You are the hole of an ass." He spoke boldly. He felt a smile creep across his lips.

Germany continued to glare. He looked like he was going to kill him any second.

. . .

A smile spread across Germany's face as he started to laugh.

Russia felt his heart beat faster. He made Germany laugh! Germany, of all people! He never made anyone else laugh, or even smile. But with Germany, he felt so proud of himself. That guy never smiles.

"You're a goddamn vodka-ass."

"'Vodka-ass'?" Russia raised an eyebrow.

Germany laughed even more.

"What does that mean? That I have vodka for an ass?" Russia giggled. He smiled even more as Germany laughed more harder, his face burning a bright red as Russia was both embarrassing him and making him laugh his ass off.

"D-does that make you a fat-ass?" Russia spoke with a slight quiver on his voice as he laughed.

"You're the fat-ass, fat-fuck."

"I'm not even fat anymore, dumb-ass. Your ass is as dumb as an ass." Russia laughed at his joke that made completely no sense.

Germany's smile disappeared drastically, turning to look at Russia solemnly.

Russia stared back. Was he mad _now? _

. . .

Suddenly, Germany pounced on him with an angry cry.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Russia cried in horror.

Germany held Russia in place as they both rolled around on the bed. Russia felt Germany's hands wander to his sides, near his waist.

He felt his chest tighten in horror as he realized what Germany was going to do.

Germany was going to tickle him.

* * *

**A/N: Omfg no. not the tickling. NO. IT'S TOO INTENSE. I NEED CHAPTER 24. **

**Hehheh, twenty-four. I love SpongeBob man. You don't even know how much i love that brilliant kitchen utensil.**

**NOBODY SUSPECTS A THING! Octodad is the best father. **

**No, wait. Pop is the best father. He deserves the #1 dad award. **

**Pop: -is currently trying to fit a toaster into a microwave which has Cub inside of it-**

**Chapter TWENTY-FOUR soon. heh 24. Patrick: HEY! THAT'S MY NAME! :D **


	24. Chapter 24: Devious Plan

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: **

**I find funny Japanese singers fabulous. My family finds them mentally insane. Don't get me started on Gary Busey. The P letter on my laptop is broken. sorry if any words are missing a p. -types prussia- "russia". DAMMIT. **

**Goshujin-sama hora negai odou ojou. watashi wa arettena kabun sou. sai go ou no otomodachi. OH YE. gokkuro enn na otomodachi. HORA.**

**MITTE. **

**MITTE. **

**YO. BE. TSUBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. **

**Sou, gokkuro enn na betsube. **

**That's my best Romaji translation of the Japanese version of "Never Had a Friend Like Me." Genie voiced by Yamadera Koichi. The new Japanese Robin Williams.**

**Da-ka-ra, ABURAKADABURA (Abracadabra). Aka BE!**

**Chotto ite sun ya dame yooooooo! I can do this all day. Listen to Yamadera's version of that song while reading my ear-based translation. Tell me if it's accurate. :O**

**MASUTAA! I swear to god that's what Genie says. **

**-rambles on-**

* * *

"What are you doing?! Stop! It hurts!" Russia cried as Germany continued to tickle him.

"How does this hurt?" Germany frowned. "That makes no sense."

Russia continued to thrash around, crying even louder with laughter. His face was bright red, tears rolling down his cheeks. He laughed until all that came out was an insane giggle that sounded like he was dying.

"I can't breathe!" He shrieked. The German didn't stop and only continuously prodded the Russian's sides. Russia had no idea he could be so ticklish. "I feel like I'm going to explode!" He giggled almost like a girly witch.

"You can't explode from being tickled. That's not proven scientifically possible . . . yet." Germany joked, though he held a stern expression. Why can't he ever smile? Russia had only seen him smile at least once.

"But let's see if it's true." He finished

Russia shook his head and tried to writhe away. "Let me go! Please! This hurts!" The giggles never seemed to end.

"If it hurts why are you laughing?"

Russia didn't answer and rolled around. Eventually he fell off the end of the bed and Germany fell back. Before Germany could get up Russia pounced on him.

"Hey!" Germany let out a surprised shriek. Russia held him down, though he was indescribably weak. Germany could just lean up and the feeble Russian would roll off of him like a cylinder. Germany decided to just play along in order to make Russia at least feel self-confident.

"I'm dead," He muttered with no expression, closing his eyes and refusing to move. Russia laughed, almost feeling like the inner child within him had broken loose.

He's never felt so happy, Germany thought to himself. At least, I've never seen him so energetic.

He never had a true, full childhood. It was all cut short by the war. Then, he was clobbered in the head and . . . he had the mind of a child forever.

Such a poor, poor man. He never actually felt this bad for the Russian before. He never looked in to how hard Russia's life had been.

He went to thinking about Russia's cold. Was it gone? He wasn't coughing or anything anymore.

He felt small smacks on his cheeks. Opening his eyes in the slightest and so Russia couldn't tell, he looked to see the Russian slapping his cheeks softly back and forth to wake him up.

Germany let his head fall to the side. "I'm dead. Remember?" He noted nonchalantly.

"Be _un_dead, then."

A small silence passed through.

"Fine."

Before Russia could do anything Germany flung himself up and tackled him down, making some sort of roar. The two wrestled around, all the while making Lutz very annoyed.

**Dammit. This is the most gayiest shit I have ever seen in my life, **he thought bitterly. He quickly remembered Germany could hear him, so he said no more. He realized Germany didn't respond back. Maybe he couldn't hear him. Good. Now he can think at least.

**How to kill this bastard, let's see. **

**. . . **

**I know I can't do it on my own. Dammit Alex. Why couldn't you do this shit by yourself? And just pick me of all people to do it? **

**Why not Oliver? **

**Or . . . **

An idea popped into Lutz's head.

**Maybe I won't have to kill this faggot on my own, **he noted to himself.

**I'll have two people help me. **

**Two very special fools. **

* * *

**A/N: YAY! MORE 2P!S**

**I honestly love using 2P!s. That's why I'm adding more! :D**

**Chapter 25 soon, gaiz. **


	25. Chapter 25: Fisting

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: I got an idea from listening to KoRn's "Kidnap the Sandy Claws". I love the nightmare before christmas, man.**

**i'm writing this from an omniscient point of view. Which means this story is in third person. **

**I KNOW ALL.**

**i fucking died of laughter while reading this chapter. i swear to god i crack myself up. **

* * *

Lutz was having real difficult problems trying to find guys to help him.

. . .

He thought even longer, coming up with at least two people that could help him.

**Could they? They seemed helpful sometimes. Real nifty, too.**

Lutz hadn't realized that Germany wasn't tickling Russia anymore, and just walking down the hall along with the Russian by his side.

_The fuck you think you're going to do? _He heard Germany's conscience ask him.

"FUCK!" Lutz had used too much force saying that, accidentally breaking Germany's resistance for a few seconds and making him yell it aloud from his thoughts. Russia turned to look at him in both surprise and confusion.

Germany held a hand to his head and turned to look at the bewildered Russian. "I hit my foot on something."

. . .

It took him a minute to realize that there was nothing he could have hit his foot on.

"On what? The air?" Russia raised an eyebrow.

"My head hurt."

"That badly?"

"Stop questioning me."

The two looked at one another for a silent moment.

Then Russia ruined it.

"You have really pretty eyes," He commented.

Germany stared back at him sternly. "_Danke." _

"What did donkeys have to do with my sentence?"

"_What?" _Germany shot him an awkward glance.

"You said donkey, didn't you?"

"No. I said _danke, _Man-child."

Germany could see Russia's cheeks turn into a slight red.

"What does that mean?"

"It means 'thank you', dumbass."

"Oh . . ." Russia blushed even more and walked forward.

They continued to walk to nowhere in complete silence. Germany was grateful he wasn't hearing from Lutz again. Maybe he left.

Then, Russia ruined the quiet moment again by asking a really uncomfortable question.

"Do you ever wonder why people say homosexual people are rough with one another while making love?" He asked as he kept his eyes trained forward. Germany immediately froze. "Excuse me?" He stared at Russia in complete confusion.

"Where the hell did that question come from?" Germany asked as he refused to move.

"I heard it from France." Russia smiled ever so innocently as he stopped and turned to looked at the German.

"He told you that? Just out of the blue?" Germany raised an eyebrow. Two, specifically.

"Well, I think he said something about him placing his thing inside my-"

"STOP. For the love of God, don't say anything else."

. . .

"ear." Russia finished. A confused look on his face. "Do you know what that means?"

Germany looked at him in utter horror, literally gaping at him. "He wanted to put his dick in your ear?"

"Y-"

"He wanted to FUCK you. In your ear. . . . I can't- Hold on. What the fuck?" Germany had completely no idea how that was even a thing. Ear-rape. Why? Why was this happening?

. . .

"Prussia told me what fisting meant." Russia noted again more softly.

"Of course he did, that sick smug bastard."

More silence passed through.

"How does that even work?" Russia looked at the German and tilted his head to the side. He made a small hole with his hand, making a fist and looking at it. "I don't see how this could happe-"

"We'll never understand, Russia. Just stop talking."

"But I don't . . ." Russia literally tried to shove his fist into the hole in his hand.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND!" He suddenly shrieked as he still continued to fit his fist through. He was to the point of crying since he was so bewildered.

"Russia. You're punching your hand. That's not how . . . Oh my fucking god." Germany put a hand to his head and let out a sigh.

The Russian, now completely clueless and naive at how the hell this could happen, didn't seem to hear him. He forced his fist against his hand, so terribly confused.

"How does this _work?! _I do not understand this choice of love-making!"

"You do this, _dummkopf." _Germany did the same, though put each of his fingers through the hole in his hand to make it larger.

. . .

"But I don't get why people like that."

"I don't either, _Russland. _I don't either." Germany grumbled as he tried to walk away as fast as he could from starting another weird conversation.

Little did he know, Lutz had left his mind to find people.

To kill them.

But they paid no mind and continued to walk down the hall.

* * *

**A/N: omfg. this was beautiful.**

**i can't help but add a few laughs in this. i'm sorry. **

**chapter 26 soon. **


	26. Chapter 26: Misunderstanding

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread **

**A/N: I am so beautilgo :D that's a new word now. because im a weird little daffodil. BEAUTILGO. OH CAN YOU SEE ABOVE THE MOUNTAINS. ALL THE CLOUDS THAT SWAY. THROUGH HE RIVERBANK. AN I SEE THAT DAY. LIKE IT WAS A SUNFLOWER. WTF. **

**i have completely no idea what the hell I just said. sarasally. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. :D**

* * *

"So, will you guys help me? At least try?" Lutz looked to the two people that stood in front of him.

The both of them unbelievably colorful and fluorescent.

"Well of course we will, Lutz-y!" Oliver chided as he fixed his bright blue bow-tie. He wore a light purple sweater vest with a pink shirt underneath. His pants were baggy tan jeans.

The second one, a bright Italian man, nodded happily. He wore pop-star-like clothing, orange rimmed sunglasses that rested at the tip of his nose. An azure scarf was tied around his neck, along with a white silky jacket and matching pants. Underneath the jacket he wore an orange long-sleeved shirt.

They were Romano and England. Or in this world; Flavio and Oliver.

"Why couldn't you have done this yourself again?" Flavio asked as he fixed his jacket. He was always so happy, and so was Oliver. But on the inside they were both psychotic murderers. They all were.

. . .

Except for . . .

"Hey! What are you guys talking about?" A young girl in a fancy pink dress asked as she approached them. Her violet eyes gazed towards them, twinkling with wonder. Her blond hair fell down her back, a pink bow attaching the two ends together. Her black dress shoes clinked against the carpet-less floor of the meeting room.

"Nothing. Get out, Ass-tasha." Lutz said curtly. No one liked her. She was so annoying and bubbly. She didn't even have the heart to kill people. She was too girly and energetic. She was so tender-hearted and nice.

She was Belarus.

"Yeah," Flavio agreed, placing his hands on his hips. "Doesn't Katya want to talk to you?"

Natasha remained silent.

"I was just wondering what-"

"We're gonna kill someone, stupid whore."

Natasha coiled up a bit after hearing that rude sentence from Lutz's mouth. She looked down at her shoes in shame.

"Don't be that way towards her!" Oliver suddenly scolded.

"I don't like people like you using such profanity at a cute little girl!"

"'Cute'? Look at that thing," Lutz frowned. "At least her goddamn sister's a hot slut."

"I wouldn't want anyone saying anything about my sister, thank you ever so much," Katya began as she walked into the room. She may have been a prostitute, but she was a rather light-hearted spirit. She loved her brother and sister. No matter how much Alex hated Natasha and how much Natasha loved him. Her shimmering short cut dress clang to her thighs. Fish hook tights were attached by a strap and running down her legs to her red stilettos. Her red lipstick glittered in the light, and red hair that matched with it.

Katya placed a soft hand on Natasha's shoulder, who immediately smiled at her caring sister.

"Whatever," Lutz waved off. "You know where that rat-bastard Alex went, big tits?"

Katya frowned at such a name. She stepped up to the perverted German and extended her arm to send a slap across his scarred cheek, her jewelry making a more harder impact.

_"ScheiBe!" _He cursed and rubbed his now reddening cheek.

"Oh, and I believe my amazing _doll _of a brother is in the lounge. If you want to talk to him, don't be a dick about it." She spoke as she walked back toward her sister.

"Let's go home, Natasha." She spoke softly as she grasped the Belorussian girl's hand.

Just before they left the room, Natasha heard a sentence she thought she'd never hear;

"So, are we going to kill Russia or what?"

She stopped dead in her tracks. Alex was Russia.

They were going to kill her brother.

* * *

**A/N: NO NATASHA. YOU GOT IT ALL WRONG. But yeah, I am kinda upset that they're planning on killing mah waifu- ia mean germany's waifu- i mean belarus' waifu- IO MEAN GFODDAMNNIT. FUCK. I DIDN'T WANNA USE BACKSAPCE. **

**Chapter 27 (HOLY SHIT, 27!) soon. **


	27. Abandoning Truths and Realities

**Hangs On a Spool of Thread**

**A/N: Kowai yu me o mita **

**boku ni maka sena yo. **

**It breaks my heart to see that you guys already have no idea what this story still is about. It lets me know I'm a bad writer. **

* * *

"What are you talking about? Killing _Alex?!" _Natasha cried.

Katya froze, looking over her shoulder at the trio.

She stared at them menacingly as she whirled around to face them. "Killing our brother? What is wrong with you guys?" She shrieked.

"We ain't killing that stupid son of a bitch!" Lutz shook his head. "We weren't talking about Alex!"

"Who were you talking about, then?" Katya scowled as she brushed bangs from her face. "I'm sure there's no one else in this world named Russia."

"There's this guy from an alternate universe-"

"There's no way in hell that's true, Lutz. Come on."

"No. Really. Ask Alex. He knows more about him than I do, anyway." Lutz insisted.

Everything was interrupted when something slammed into the wall next to Lutz. A crack ran down the wall from the force.

"_Hyeek!" _Lutz jumped in horror and accidentally fell to the floor from shock.

Alex yanked his shovel from the wall. Everyone shuddered at his presence.

All except for Natasha and Katya.

"Big brother!" Natasha cried as she ran to embrace her elder sibling.

Just as Natasha was an arms length away, Alex placed his hand against her face to keep her from nearing him anymore. "Don't even think about touching me you idiot." He scolded as he smacked her head and caused her to fall back.

"Ouchie!" She screeched and rubbed her forehead.

"Be nice to your little sister, Alex." Katya smacked the Russian in the back of the head. He growled and looked away, holding his shovel up as if he was going to stab her with it any second.

Lutz, ignoring what was going on, turned his attention to the swirling whirlpool on the wall beside him. It had been created when the original England in that alternate universe had tried to go back in time, yet miscalculated and created this reality. The way they had been created. Their world was just a sick and twisted corrupted piece of garbage.

They all were distorted. Bastardized versions of the true reality. The direct opposites of who they are supposed to be.

They were Second Players.

Though they all refused to accept the truth. They refused to accept they were meaningless copies. They _were _actually their own being. Not . . . personas.

Lutz narrowed his eyes. He didn't want that true, happy-go-lucky universe to exist any longer. The universe that was cute and bubbly, ignoring any sites of the true world. So naive and colorful. It made Lutz sick to his stomach.

Ignoring thoughts of dismemberment, Lutz walked into the portal along with Flavio and Oliver following.

Alex stopped arguing with his sisters, turning to see they had left through it.

"Dammit!" He shouted.

Natasha didn't think straight about what she was doing next. Without thinking clearly, she ran towards the swirling vortex.

"Natasha! Get back here!" She heard Katya shriek behind her. She ignored her siblings, and all she saw next was complete darkness.

* * *

**A/N: Bluh bleh, short chapter. **

**chapter twenty-eight soon. **


End file.
